


Echoes

by IreneClaire



Series: Genome [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Mental Anguish, Protective Steve McGarrett, References to Drugs, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: After being forced to take a drug which caused a severe chemical change in his makeup, Danny can literally feel other people's physical reactions and/or emotions as if he's experiencing those things himself.   And now, even though the doctors have cleared him and deemed him okay, Danny is still experiencing empathetic feelings.Steve takes things into his own hands when Danny continues to retreat from everyone and everything, insisting on focusing on Danny's recovery despite Danny's belief that the drug he was forced to take has hopelessly changed him forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: Might be best to read the first story in this series. This was supposed to be a one chapter Epilogue to that story (Synesthesia / Mirror-Touch Synesthesia) and it's now a multi-chapter sequel. 
> 
>  
> 
> Definition of Mirror-touch synesthesia: A condition which causes individuals to experience the same sensation (such as touch) that another person feels. For example, if someone with this condition were to observe someone touching their cheek, they would feel the same sensation on their own cheek. Mirror touch synesthetes have a higher ability to feel empathy than non-synesthetes, and can therefore feel the same emotions that someone else may be observed to feel.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny stood over Steve fingers clenching and unclenching spasmodically. He was breathing hard and covered in a glistening sheen of sweat as if he'd just run a marathon. He repeatedly faltered by Steve's bedside not knowing what he wanted to do.

 _Talk to Steve. He needed to talk to Steve._ Danny raised one hand, his fingers poised above Steve's forearm only to change his mind again. _No. NO ... he could do this. Steve was sick_ ...and he was being wholly selfish.

Danny swayed, feeling a mounting sense of desperation inside himself but he still refused to disturb his injured friend. And when Steve shifted in his bed as if sensing Danny's presence, his brow rippling in distress, exhausted murmurs incoherent under the oxygen mask, Danny stumbled back a few steps. He rubbed at his chest, heart pounding. Steve's momentary disquiet had fueled his torment in spades

 _Talk to Steve... wake him up._ Danny shook his head defiantly at that scared inner voice. It wasn't okay. It wasn't right even if Steve said that they'd be together to work things out while the drug left Danny's system. Angry with himself, Danny knew that Steve would want him to wake him up now, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was late, well past three o'clock in the morning. The only light coming into their hospital room was from the corridor and the few lights from the various machines in the room and all of those machines were meant for Steve. Danny had no business skulking so awkwardly by his sleeping friend half hoping he'd wake on his own.

But Danny had woken like a man drowning, mouth gaped wide, soundlessly gulping and staring upwards as he'd tried to take a breath that wouldn't come.

He'd felt them die. He could still feel their thrall of death and with that feeling, Danny knew then with a sinking heart that he wasn't going to get better. Jacob Grinnell's damned drug had done something irreversible to him deep inside and there would be no going back anymore. Danny was sure that the doctors would eventually be pleased and announce him clean of the confusing mix of chemicals but he already knew better.

 _He could feel it._ So stunned and frightened by that realization, his first inhale had been strong, loud and painfully real. He was still fighting himself to breathe normally.

Danny closed his eyes as he stood near Steve, his hands suddenly balled into white-knuckled fists while his insides churned warningly, smoldering and melting at the same time. He felt wrong and sick and quite frankly, he didn't know what to do. With Grinnell dead, what could anyone hope to do for him anyway? Dizzy, he rocked in place only able to feel death.

" _Jesus._ It's not over," Danny choked out as he backed further away from Steve's bedside. It was never going to be over for him.

The nightmarish memories of his dream were a fluid thread of nonsensical colors inside his mind. Reds, whites, yellows were blurred together. There were no faces though. No sounds he could recall at all. Just a flurry of color which was already fading. What remained was terrifying though and it didn't matter that it might have been a bit dimmer. It was disturbing. Unhealthy. _Unnatural_. Visceral sensations smoldered inside that all-consuming heat still stuck inside his body. They fluctuated like an ebb and flow of a tide, slightly abating but refusing to cease their timeless movement.

Now by the doorway to the hospital room, his back to the corridor, Danny stared at his hands expecting to see them covered in blood. They were spotless though. _Why_? They should be covered in blood and yet, there was nothing there. Muted sounds of life softly echoed into to him from the hallway. Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed and Danny shivered where he stood. His hands should have been shaking as wildly as his heartbeat. Yet they were calm. Quiet.

_The hands of a killer._

It didn't matter how or why. Danny had fed off Steve's rage and channeled his own anger and fear. The drug had done the rest. He'd looked into Jacob Grinnell's eyes before he'd broken the lunatic's arm. His fingertips held the memory of that thick snap of bone and sinew. He felt the agony of the break as if his own arm had been broken in two. Worse though, he'd looked into the man's face and he knew the exact moment in which he'd died. Danny felt that too; a painless snap ... a flare of something he couldn't define ... then, nothing at all. They'd literally died by his hands - in his hands - and he'd died with them.

But then he hadn't because he'd lived on afterwards. He'd taken that last breath with them and then he'd taken a new one of his own. He'd lived on after he'd died.

It made no sense in a mind shattered by far too many feelings.

Those embers were smoldering in that place which held the rest of all the things he'd been forced to absorb. He'd killed two people without thought or remorse. That had really happened and Danny heaved in a strangled breath of air which ended on a ragged cough as his throat closed. _What had he done?_ He'd killed without thought. He'd murdered two people and felt their life leave their bodies. He'd felt ... _them_. Why was he remembering all of that now though?

_What had he done?_

"It's gotta stop," Danny said as he threaded his fingers roughly through his hair. He'd meant to kill - he'd killed - and he'd done it not once, but twice. His fingertips held the memory of the wicked snap of bone and sinew as he'd snapped Grinnell's arm. Inside, he held the man's arrogance, flux of pride ... and then mirrored his astonishment as he'd died from a broken neck. For all he'd killed the second man in the same manner, Danny keenly felt those differences too and he mewled in distress as guilt and shame tightened his stomach for the unadulterated sense of pure fear which stared back at him from that internal hell.

_What had he done?_

"Detective Williams?" He cringed at the sound of the unexpected voice from behind. "Are you all right?"

"No," Danny replied. His own voice sounded hoarse and strained, stuck deep inside his chest along with the heated burn of death.

"Maybe, get back in bed?" The night nurse suggested kindly. "Try to sleep?" She was calm, gentle. Well-schooled in governing the tone of her voice and staying benignly indifferent, yet she was persistent, too. With her guidance, Danny found himself prodded forward back to where he'd started and he shirked out from under her hand.

"No," he repeated. He knew that she would balk now. He was acting strangely and no doubt looked ... off. He sure as hell felt as if he were going crazy. Maybe this had done it; maybe this one event was finally it for him and he was done. Washed up for good.

"Why not?" She asked. "You've barely slept ... it's late ..."

"I can't," Danny interrupted as he shook his head and backed up again towards the doorway. He wasn't injured. He technically wasn't even tethered to anything anymore. He didn't need oxygen or medication ... other than prescribed rest, liquids and blood tests, he didn't even really need to be hospitalized. Though he wouldn't exercise the option, Danny knew he could choose to check himself out that very minute. He could choose to refuse additional medical care. He could defy them all. But he wouldn't.

Danny glanced towards Steve's bed when he heard the low murmur of sound. Steve fidgeted, his hand rubbing blindly at the oxygen mask, wanting it off in his sleep. Danny couldn't stop himself from unconsciously skirting his fingers over his own cheek and nose. For just a moment, he chased a mirror image of Steve's clumsy sleep-induced touch. Stunned, Danny blinked wildly and backed up more when Steve's legs moved weakly under the blankets before he appeared to fully relax. His face smoothed and Danny felt a subtle flare of peace. He briefly closed his eyes, relishing the sensation.

No. He couldn't just leave. His partner was the only reason keeping him there because Danny knew that if he dared to leave, Steve would follow. And for Steve's sake, Danny wouldn't do it. Nonetheless, he couldn't blithely just go back to bed. The heat inside his core was bringing a hot itch with it and he couldn't simply crawl back into a hospital bed.

"I ... I, _uh_ ... just need to walk," Danny said. He tried to whisper but his voice still sounded raspy to his ear. He didn't wait for her to offer an opinion then. He simply turned on his heel and left the room with no where in particular in mind. He made a right to avoid the people he registered nearest the nurse's main station. Their low hum of life disturbed him on a base level and he didn't dare test those waters. He wanted to be as alone as humanly possible without leaving hospital grounds. At the end of the corridor, he made another right and kept his head down not looking in any direction until he ran out of room, hitting a dead-end.

"Shit," Danny muttered under his breath. The corridor had become bland and nondescript. It ended at an over-sized door requiring a code or a card-key to open. A few steps back the way he'd come was a bank of elevators which he sensed were not for normal use. Beyond that, he could still hear the shuffle of life and the occasional voice or two. Danny hung his head as he leaned up against the wall. For the moment, this limited solitude would have to do. Eyes closed, willing his mind to stop the incessant whirring as his chest ached with a burn that had no viable source, Danny tried to focus on nothing at all. He couldn't master meditation on a good day though and the rumble which thrummed through his ears distracted him immediately. It was coming from directly overhead and even reverberating through the wall he was leaning up against. Danny frowned until he realized the purpose of the door, the corridor and the meaning of the elevators' placement.

The hospital had a helipad. The hospital was older and the helipad built much later with the structure having been coerced to fit the need. The over-sized door led up to the roof or even directly out to the top deck. The corridor and the elevator were un-obstructed, priority access to emergency care. Not knowing if a patient might be coming or going, Danny stayed where he was, wedged in a corner. The steady whump-whump-whump got louder as someone opened the door above to the outside and then muted again as the door above closed. Danny then heard a pair of footsteps approaching the door he was nearest to. Unhurried, calm and therefore likely not an incoming patient but something else.

There was a click and soft buzz of sound as the door unlocked from the opposite side. The two men who came through in a rush of cool, fresh air were pilot and co-pilot, geared up and calm. The taller was chattering into a blue-tooth. The two were calm and yet they apparently had a specific goal in mind because they didn't look Danny's way.

Without thinking, Danny reacted on gut instinct, grabbing for the door's smooth handle to slip through the way they'd just entered the hospital. He moved quickly, his eye on the glimmer of soft light leaking through the next door to the helipad itself. He hummed in appreciation when he saw that this door lacked the same level of security of the first. In fact, it hadn't closed completely and Danny was outside before he knew it, breathing in crisp night air.

Except for the helicopter which rumbled gently on, the night was quiet. But the whump-whump of the helicopter's blades was dying down too and was near to stopping. The big bird had been shut off, possibly even docked for the night and Danny sighed in relief as he looked around to gain perspective.

The rooftop itself was expansive. The landing pad taking up only a small portion of it as it shared spaced with the hospital's big generators and cell phone towers. Danny seemed to have his choice of private nooks and crannies, nearly all affording him quiet views of downtown. The solitude was an immediate balm to his system and Danny started walking away from the helipad which was far too well lit for his liking. He walked in the opposite direction over a barely illuminated service walkway which transitioned at one point from concrete to metal until he was stopped by a low protective railing. On one side, the railing allowed for an over-look of a lower rooftop, but on its main front, Danny's view of the city-scape was uninhibited.

Dead-ended again, Danny slid down the rough exterior wall facing outwards to stare at distant lights. He wound up sitting there in dark shadows, his legs swinging into open space no less than fourteen stories down to the tree-lined street. Hugging his arms around his middle, he closed his eyes and tried to quell the heat tearing up his soul.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Dawn had only just begun its slow approach when he was discovered by a hospital security guard. Danny blinked owlishly against the flash of light which flickered over his face and his body, towards the man's silhouette which blocked any kind of egress Danny might have been considering. The man's shadow was wide and thick, a testament to a portly, out of shape build. And still dark, Danny couldn't see the security guard's features even when the flashlight was politely averted to shine mostly across his hips and the narrow catwalk itself.

"Sir? Detective Williams, please just ... don't move," the guard stated rather firmly when he examined Danny's hiding place. There was a soft curse and the man backed up a few steps, giving Danny an idea of his age. Or at the bare minimum, of his experience. The guy was mature and had been around the block a few times. Though obviously concerned, he didn't test or press a situation which he didn't fully understand. Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes though at the first couple of questions.

"Are ... are _uh_ , you all right, sir? You're not hurt or anything? We've been looking for you everywhere." At least the guy was a professional and not dissolving into some kind of nervous excitement for having discovered Danny's hiding place. His concern and his questions were indeed fair and Danny nodded, barely able to hide an aggrieved sigh.

"I'm fine." Danny found himself responding though he'd have preferred not to. He hadn't known that his voice would still be tunneling inside his head. He didn't sound like himself at all. And though he replied and knew the man was nervous, he opted not to move just yet. Truth be told, he'd been sinking into a place without sound or thought or feeling. The quiet had been soothing. He'd even managed to dampen the worst of the two men's dying moments which teased him inside that heated core. Now though, they threatened to surge up once more and Danny visibly shivered.

 _The snap, like a sharp kink in the neck. His neck; their necks. A shared feeling of disbelief - silent screams of terror as lungs suddenly ceased working - a black so dark that Danny fell in, too, nearly incapable of finding his way out. Life stopped for a hairsbreadth and then kick-started like a punch to the_ _stomach._

Coming back to reality now was jarring to his system and speaking, difficult. His head felt disconnected from the rest of his body and for a split second, Danny felt nauseous. If he tried to get up, he anticipated taking an ungainly tumble and it just wasn't worth the attempt.

"Central? This is Curtis. I have him on the roof ... opposite side of the helipad," the guard was calmly reporting into his radio. "Well, no. It's, _uh_ ... not the best spot. So, I'd ... _uh_ , rather he not ... move just yet. We should... _uh,_ keep any activity to a real quiet ... _minimum_ if you catch my drift. But yeah, he seems all right."

There was a pause and the bulky shadow shifted as some kind of orders were shared and then the guard's reply was simple. "Copy that."

Danny barely bothered to listen to the short exchange. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head back into the wall and waited for the first shoe to drop. He felt a keen resentment for having been found made worse by the man's call to his superiors. Danny didn't want anyone's help. He'd found a quiet haven. Danny didn't know how long he thought he'd have to himself, but his short sojourn was soon to end. He felt oddly... betrayed by being found out so fast. The security guard was only doing his job though. What had he expected to happen? At least he wasn't being dragged away in a straight jacket ... at least not yet. He grimaced to himself when he heard others approaching; so many he couldn't judge the size of the group about to descend upon him.

"Where? Where is he?" Danny juddered where he sat, blinking his eyes back open in surprise when Steve's voice was the first he could discern. Loud. Demanding and the tone, curt. Of course though ... _of course_ because Steve would have been the one to raise the alarm on his wayward partner.

There it was then: the second shoe.

"Danno?" The thick silhouette was pre-empted as Steve rudely shoved past the guard, taking the man's flashlight as he came. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

His approach was rapid and if Danny had needed space, well Steve certainly wasn't about to give him any at all. In fact, Steve ignored Curtis' quiet warning to heed caution and he didn't even wait for Danny to form a reply. There was a pained grunt as Steve's knees hit metal. Danny grimaced unhappily as he mirrored a sketchy ache through both of his own knees and his chest pinged in sympathy. Steve's breathing was off-kilter, made worse when he dropped the flashlight to the side in lieu of wrapping his arms around Danny's upper body to virtually heave him into his chest. Even if it might have been a beat or two off, Danny adopted the same broken cadence.

 _Steve hurt. Steve was hurting himself more_ with his awkward position. Despite all of it, Danny didn't try to break his friend's tenacious hold, but he did cringe when he felt Steve's sweaty, cold chill through the thin hospital gown; the stressful tremble in his friend's body. Under his ear, Steve's heart was thudding far too quickly, his lungs boasting a ragged echo. When Danny glanced up, he groaned out loud at what he saw in the pained crinkle of his partner's eyes.

Steve hurt. Steve was _hurting_ ... and though not as strong as it once might have been, Danny was keenly aware of it.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, his tone precisely the opposite of being even remotely remorseful. "But Danny ... you promised. _We_ promised to ride this out together. Why didn't you come for me?" His worry and emotional pain were bleeding through, too. Steve wasn't trying to hide his distress either and perhaps by that point, he just couldn't. With that one shared look and Steve's failed attempt at biting back a breathy, sharp cough, Danny mirrored enough of Steve's woes to tell him a number of things.

_Physical hurt - a dull ache through his middle from cracked ribs; lungs that were sore and bruised, making the simple act of breathing a panted, breathless whistle. A tightness around his eyes which signaled the dull thud of a headache._

All of that was worsened by Steve's assertive actions and contentious tone of voice. But Danny couldn't blame his partner for being upset. Danny understood Steve's alarm, the fear he was projecting, and his personal insult at having been briefly shunned. The stunning mix of things which came at Danny were entirely of his own doing and it eased only when he looked away.

"Danny. Why didn't you wake me up? What the hell happened?" Steve asked as he propped Danny up higher, his breath a panted whine in his throat while trying to get another look into Danny's face. Something which Danny abjectly refused to allow a second time.

"No, no don't. I'm fine ... nothing's wrong ... nothing happened. Not really ... I only couldn't sleep," Danny partly lied as he nearly evaded the confusing blending of physical discomfort and emotional turmoil steeped in Steve's eyes. His mouth was a thin, bloodless line another testament to his level of pain and difficulty in breathing and Danny grew dizzy. He argued Steve's persistence then, ducking his head back down and away to avoid the onslaught.

"I'm sorry ... you ... you're hurting and I'm okay," Danny insisted. He took a deep breath, his eyes closed to center himself, well aware that Steve was seeing right through him. And if he couldn't see, he certainly could feel his reaction. In fact, the two of them were engaged in a tricky round robin-like game of emotional hide and seek. A game that probably wouldn't have any winners. "Really, I'm good. You ... you need to be off your feet though."

"No, no you're not ... _good_. If you were, you wouldn't have left the room in the first place. And if you were so damned worried about me and what I'd think or wind up doing, you sure as hell wouldn't be out here either," Steve complained, distinctly ignoring Danny's words and observations. "No one has been able to find you for over an hour! The hospital is practically on lockdown. What the hell were you thinking? Why didn't you wake me up? Why did you just ... _leave_? You scared the shit out of me ... no one knew where you went. No one knew _when_. I thought ... I thought the worst. Danny, shit. Why the hell did you decide to sit way the hell up here?"

Steve cursed helplessly as he got a better look at where Danny had managed to squirrel himself away. And in response to the change in Steve's tone, Danny peeked out at the horizon, too. He raised a circumspect eyebrow when he realized just what he'd done.

As the sky brightened towards dawn and he could see more, Danny found himself perched on the edge of a concrete and metal precipice. Most of his legs were dangling stories above the earth. He hadn't realized that. His judgement had been incredibly off. No, strike that. His judgment had been absolutely non-existent. Danny knew what it might have looked like then - he understood the security guard's admonition about not moving - the quiet call to his central dispatch - and he snuffled an odd laugh.

"Oops," he muttered hoarsely. Danny tried to smile, but he lost the plot as he watched an early morning gull screech by at their level, gliding aggressively towards the Pacific. Behind the white wings, the sky was already an impossible blur of oranges and pinks.

"What _are_ you doing out here?" Steve asked again before he looked around, fully taking in the height and birds-eye view. Steve exhaled low and long, worried and on edge when he dared to glance down. The height was indeed dizzying.

"What were you thinking, _huh_?"

"Wasn't gonna jump, Steven," Danny said. "Just needed some time ... some space ... somewhere where it would be _quiet_."

"You sure as hell found that," Steve replied as he ran his hand blindly up and down Danny's arm, feasibly trying to warm him up from the night-time chill. Or maybe it was just due to nervousness. Regardless, thin hospital garb certainly hadn't been enough to wear on a rooftop. Danny had scarcely noticed and this time, his shivering had a lot more to do with the briskness of a cold breeze.

"I needed to be alone," Danny murmured apologetically. "That's all."

On his knees next to Danny, his arms still bracketing him, Steve sighed. He paused, ignoring the few hospital staff behind them before speaking again, his tone low and hopeful. "You know ... the doctors said your last blood tests were normal. The drug is out of your system; there isn't a trace of it anywhere. You're over it, Danny ... so, this ... what's happening? Why did you leave to come out here? You need to tell me."

Steve's voice fell about two octaves on his last few words and Danny snorted as he shook his head to object what the doctors had evidently concluded.

_They were wrong; all of them. They knew nothing ... their tests meant nothing and they had no idea what he was experiencing._

Danny knew Steve was asking only out of sheer hope because he knew that Steve already understood the truth about what was happening to him. Danny _knew_ that Steve saw how he was continuing to unravel. But what Steve didn't quite know yet was just how badly - or why. Danny shook his head as he looked at his hands which were balled into fists in his lap. He forced his fingers to uncurl and then turned them over, palm up, to stare at them.

_They were still far too quiet for the hands of a killer._

The resulting tight sound that came out of Danny's chest was more of a hysterical hiccup, than laugh. "I can't undo it. Any of it," he said. He glanced up towards Steve then, held his hands held high in the air. They continued to be amazingly steady for all he was burning up inside.

"See? Don't you see?"

"Danny?" Steve asked. His tone was hesitant, his worry spiking. Danny could tell that he was scaring Steve but now for an an entirely different reason. "What are you doing, _huh_? Let's go in. We can talk inside, okay?"

"I killed them," Danny suddenly blurted out. He didn't sound like himself at all. His voice was reedy, thin and hollow to his own ear. "I killed them and felt it ... and inside me now? I still feel their last ... their, _uh_ ...final ...the way they ...the way they were there and then just ... weren't. It's like a hole inside my chest. I'm empty ... it's just ... empty, used up and yet, ... there's this _fire_ , too. It's wrong. It's just ... all so _wrong_."

That was as far as he got before his voice dried up completely and his face crumpled in distress. He wrapped his arms around his middle as he sagged into Steve's hold, his face hidden away from everything and everyone around him.

He didn't know what to do. Maybe he should have jumped as the security guard had assumed he might do - as Steve might have even assumed the first time he saw him sitting there so high up - though that terrible thought had been the very furthest from Danny's mind. And frankly, even though things seemed to be spiraling out of control, it still was as Steve awkwardly hugged him closer, evidently at a loss to say anything at all.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Thanks for being patient! A very busy week here with RL issues and new jobs getting sorted out ... for this chapter: a few things needed some major massaging and it took longer than I thought.
> 
> Errors are my own. Not beta'd ... blah, blah caveats apply. See a mistake, please let me know!

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny and Steve were released from the hospital at the same time as a matter of due course by their primary physician. Steve, with orders to rest for two additional days and Danny to do the same, with a laundry list of care alternatives to consider since no one was quite sure how to best help him. That truth had left Danny quiet and reserved. His sullen response had prompted another discussion with their doctor about PTSD and related trauma, first evidenced by Danny's private journey up to the hospital's roof-top. With no valid reason to object and the likelihood that the department would require the same, Danny had agreed to see someone.

That had been eight days earlier and Danny had at least tried to do as suggested. He'd met with the department psychologist and talked with the man at least once or twice. And some good must have come out of the meetings because - most incredibly - he'd been cleared for active duty. But Steve knew better and wondered the decision. He knew better because Danny had quietly again confessed to him that memories of Grinnell and his flunky were stuck inside of him. More than once, Steve had caught Danny staring silently at his hands as if they were wholly to blame for what had happened. He was back on the job, yet distracted and on edge for every single case call.

Eight days had gone by in a flash _. Eight days._ And now, the very worst thing had happened. A simple errand had gone sideways on the them at the damned gas station on Farrington while on the way into work on a quiet, sunny Tuesday morning.

Steve scrubbed hard at his face before tenting his fingers to stare straight through the windows into his partner's office. He ignored the letter in front of him. He'd read it four times anyway and could recite it by heart. Nevertheless, he was disbelieving its existence even though Danny had told him to expect it hand-delivered by _yours-truly_ that very morning. Sitting there quietly at his desk, Steve stared at Danny, weighing and judging what he hadn't wanted to see worsening every day since Danny had been released from the hospital. Proof that any of the small wins had been too far and few between to have made an impact at all. Validation that Danny still felt broken enough to do something extreme which he might not come back from.

_The gas station on Farrington. Their being at the wrong place at the wrong time had resulted in the perfect storm._

Steve sighed and interlaced his fingers tightly together as Danny stood up to retrieve something from his bookcase. He watched him box whatever it was he'd taken off a shelf. If Steve hadn't been all that alarmed when they'd discovered his partner on the hospital's roof, he was now. If he were to borrow one of Danny's old phrases, Steve might have felt rationally concerned back then along with the medical staff. He hadn't been afraid at the time as much as _rationally concerned_ about where Danny had gone to be alone, and he'd felt the same way even after what Danny'd admitted to him before they'd gone back inside the hospital. Concerned and watchful, yes, but not really afraid.

Everything was different now though. _The gas station on Farrington. The attendant's murder. Their armed perp ... suddenly gunning for Steve. Wrong place, wrong time._

As he watched his ailing partner pack up his desk, Steve had to admit that he was no longer rationally concerned at all. _No_ , he was downright petrified. Steve pushed his chair back at the same time Danny left his office, timing it perfectly to block his partner's exit, his stance firm, arms folded almost belligerently. There had to be another way. This? This wasn't going to work; it was the beginning of the end. Steve could feel it in his bones.

"You're really doing this?" Steve asked. "A leave of absence? Danny ... seriously? Just how long do you plan to take?"

_The gas station on Farrington. A gun shoved directly into his chest and Danny ... his partner right there out in the open. His weapon out and locked on the perp by sheer instinct. Danny's hands had been deathly quiet, the muzzle of his gun trained unerringly at their perp's head. His finger frozen on the trigger. Danny's eyes also frozen... their once clear blue, a haze of pain and confusion._

Steve knew what had happened and he accepted it with an ease borne from experience. His partner's reaction to trauma was a classic one. Steve wasn't entirely convinced anymore that Danny's fear was the chemically-induced synesthesia in action as much as an output of what had happened with Grinnell and his damned lackey back in the old parking garage. Danny, however, was on a completely different page.

"You don't have to do this. It's not right, there's other ways," Steve insisted even though he knew that Danny was already tuning him out. "It was a one-off. We were both caught by surprise. And it worked out ... things worked out, Danny. Really, I don't want you to do this. You don't have to."

"No, that's not true. You were there. You saw what happened... _nothing_ worked itself out, Steve," Danny replied in a flat monotone. His eyes full of self-loathing and a pain so deep that Steve nearly flinched. "I made a mistake … I've made a lot of mistakes. For one, the department shrink. I lied … I lied to him. He wouldn't know what to do with me anyway, so I _lied_. I'm just a damned lab rat to these guys, so I tap-danced around the truth and got myself cleared to work. I _lied_ , Steve! Don't you get it? I'm a _liability_ ... just like I knew I would be. I can't ... you _can't_ trust me, Steve. I can't trust myself."

"Danno, just _wait_ ..." Steve started and scowled as Danny immediately interrupted him.

"No. No, because you know what's even worse than lying? _Hesitating_ ," Danny hissed quietly. "I fucking _hesitated_ because I was scared of what would happen. I was scared of either feeling some stupid, damned bullet no matter where I shot the guy. And I sure as hell didn't want to kill him because ... shit, Steve! Because it would be like Grinnell all over again and I'd have another death inside me. Another one to add to whatever's going on inside me and I just can't do it again. I can't take the chance."

Danny stopped long enough to suck in a breath of air. He rocked in place, trembling, his face pale, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. When he spoke again, his voice was just above a hoarse whisper and cracking on every other word. "I hesitated and nearly got you killed. If his gun hadn't jammed. _Shit_ , Steven! If his damned gun hadn't fucking jammed and if you hadn't gone all hell-bent on his ass ... we'd be dead. _You'd_ be dead and I can't ... you _know_ that I'm a damned liability to you just like I knew I would be. I ... I need to figure this out ... somehow. _Someway_."

"You're not a liability," Steve whispered desperately. " _Danny_ ... please you don't need to do this. You don't know if any of that really would have happened." But Danny didn't answer this time and Steve could only read the despair on his partner's face. A despair that increased in spades when he held his free hand out to Steve, the glint of gold and silver-gray obvious and Steve's eyes widened in shock.

"No. No way! Don't you dare do that," Steve said as he backed up a full step, both of his hands held up between them, fingers splayed in refusal. "Danno. _Jesus_ ... you can't be serious ..."

"Here. Take them," Danny said as he thrust his badge and service revolver hard enough into Steve's chest to leave a bruise. "Just ... take them."

Steve's fingers automatically closed around the two items, taking Danny's fingers along. But before Steve could do anything more to object or argue or even hang on, Danny was jerking free of Steve's grip and pushing through him to leave.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

When Danny's cell phone didn't ring but went directly to voicemail, Steve drove to his house. He didn't even bother knocking when he got there; but then he didn't need to because the front door was unlocked. As soon as he walked in, Steve tentatively sniffed the air, distastefully wrinkling his nose at a stale, sour odor. He shook his head helplessly confused by what was happening, his lips thinning in response.

"Hey, it's Steve ... where are you?" He called out as he entered the house. "Danny?"

Steve grimaced when there was no answer. But he thankfully didn't have to go too far based on the tufts of lank, blond hair he could see peeking out over the arm of the sofa. Knowing that Danny was right there was a mixed bag. While relieved to find him, Steve knew he wasn't going to get an answer and his heart plummeted even more. True Danny was laying there, curled up on his side and sleeping in the supposed safety of his own home. But it was only four o'clock in the afternoon - and he was _sleeping_. His hands were shoved between his knees and worse yet, he was wearing the same clothes Steve had seen him in two days earlier. It looked to Steve as if Danny hadn't budged an inch since he'd seen him last. Danny might be in his house and sleeping on his own sofa, but he looked like death warmed over.

"Come on. What are you doing here, buddy? Huh?" Steve murmured desperately. As he'd thought, this wasn't the way to work things out. In his mind, Steve ticked off a new list of concerns. Separate ticks now existed for unlocked doors and cell phones that went directly to voicemail. Missed doctors appointments. Inconsistent communication and bad sleeping habits. Based on where Steve found him and how he looked, Danny wasn't even caring for the most basic of necessities. His clothes were rumpled and the scruff covering his face was now closer to passing for a beard. Adding to the insults, Danny still didn't sense Steve's presence in his house.

 _He never heard him come in through an unlocked door._ He never heard Steve's voice. He still didn't so much as twitch a finger.

"Son of a bitch," Steve said under his breath. Danny was sleeping too hard, unnaturally deadened to the world, his chest barely rising and falling, and Steve's anger as to the reason why completely negated his list of immediate concerns.

On the coffee table in front of Danny, the open bottle of sleeping pills, its plastic cover fallen to the floor, and the half glass of water were the obvious clues. Danny's cell phone, its battery dead, was teetering on the opposite edge of the coffee table next to the tv remote and Steve scowled when he glanced up. The tv was on, but muted with some soap opera or non-sensical novella flickering madly across the screen. That too had probably been on non-stop and for no good reason at all.

Unable to help himself, Steve reached down, his fingers settling on his partner's neck. Danny's pulse was slow and steady; strong enough. Danny was technically not in danger then and Steve inhaled sharply as he made a decision which he knew he'd not be backing down from. Moving quickly, he shoved Danny's cell phone into a pocket and then used the remote to thumb the tv off. He walked away, going to Danny's bedroom to pack a bag of clothes. In the master bath, Steve shook his head, incredulous when he saw the untouched bath towel, a pile of clean clothes on the lid to the toilet bowl. At some point, his partner at least had the intent of getting cleaned up, yet it never had happened. No longer wondering if his spontaneous decision might be a bad one, Steve stayed determined while he took any toiletries easy enough to grab from the cabinets. He'd been relatively quiet since entering the house - since seeing Danny laid out on the sofa - but now his mood was being rankled at every turn. Nothing was right. His partner was a damned mess and that odd sharp smell was hitting his nose every so often, making his stomach churn. _Nothing_ was getting any better and the more Steve saw, the more he began to mutter and curse under his breath. Once he got to the kitchen though, that was where his temper soured completely.

"God dammit, Daniel," Steve said as his hand went reflexively up to his nose at the sharp stench of moldy food.

The food he'd brought his partner two days earlier was still out on the counter. Untouched. _Spoiled._ It was partly the source of the odor which was slowly wafting its way though the house. Steve was sure something else was at fault beyond all of that. Maybe it was the garbage pail or maybe it was some other forgotten tray or ignored stash of food. Frankly, it didn't matter all that much. What Steve saw was enough to harden his resolve about the course of action he was setting into motion.

Of the food left out, there was nothing to be salvaged and Steve dropped the overnight bag to the floor to sweep cartons and full take-out tins into the already full trash. He opened a new bag to go through the refrigerator and did the same while holding his breath, assuming easily enough that anything in plastic or foil were equally ruined. Dairy followed the obvious items, leaving Danny's fridge virtually emptied within seconds. Without pause, Steve stalked out the side door to the lanai where the trash bags were shoved roughly into the bin for the carters.

 _Enough was enough_ and Steve was done with Danny trying to work through this particular mine-field on his own. It wasn't working. Nothing was improving. He'd deal with the fallout later. In fact, he'd welcome dealing with it if it meant helping his partner in the long-run.

Side door now double-locked, Steve threw the overnight bag back over his shoulder. In the main living room, he grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills, counting the handful left before covering it. The count seemed to indicate that Danny was taking the maximum allowable dosage. Without the proper food in his system though, the medication was hitting him hard. Even with Steve puttering around the house, Danny still hadn't roused. Annoyed by that fact, Steve hesitated, wanting to toss the pills entirely. Regardless, he wound up shoving the bottle into a pocket. As much as he wanted to get rid of the medication, he did have second thoughts on being that extreme. As a compromise, he'd keep the prescription in case Danny truly needed it, but until that might happen, Steve would be the one calling the shots.

Steve sucked in a breath of air as he stared down at Danny again. He needed to settle himself before he woke Danny or things could go sideways quickly, no matter the heavy dose of medication which Danny had taken. Something was still happening to his friend and Steve had to respect his partner's complaints though he wondered their source now. He wondered and worried about Danny's lapse in coping mechanisms. But as Danny's chest continued its passive rise and fall, Steve felt that more than enough had been going on and for far too many days. No matter what or why, Danny needed help.

"Danny?" Steve called out. "Hey ... Danny."

He reached down and touched his friend's wrist. Nothing happened at all though and Steve hummed under his breath. He hunkered down to balance lightly on his toes with the bag by his side. Steve's original unhappy scowl softened at his partner's vulnerable expression. In sleep, with lips parted just enough to breathe, Danny was pale, his cheeks starting to look sunken under days' worth of stubble. Behind purpling, translucent lids, his eyes roamed aimlessly. Sleeping pills aside, Danny looked exhausted, sickly, his forehead deeply pinched by some inner pain prompted by some stressful nightmare or another.

Steve sighed, swallowing down his trepidation about what could happen once Danny woke up. Something was definitely still wrong. But Danny's way of trying to cope on his own wasn't the right way - it wasn't working. It wasn't _enough_. They'd promise to chase this down and conquer it together and though Danny had continued to waffle, Steve was firmly putting that vow into play. Together meant just that. So first things first, and his idea to get Danny over to his place where he wouldn't be alone was as good as any. Hell, it was a damned sight better than the current one based on Danny's state. It was something he needed to do in order to give it all one last gallant effort before insisting that qualified medical reinforcements be called in. That ... _that_ would be the very last resort and Steve sure as hell hoped he'd not have to go that far. He didn't want to go there at all.

"Hey buddy? Danny?" Steve tried again. This time, he ran his fingers over his partner's face and through hair that was stringy and in sore need of a wash. "Come on ... time to go. Time to wake up."

It took a few minutes of soft coaching for Danny to work through an unconscious series of incoherent mumblings and to open his eyes, their normal blue far too hazy for Steve's liking. Danny could barely focus on him, but he at least recognized Steve's face based on the brief, loopy grin of welcome. Belying his anger, Steve ran his thumb over the coarseness of his partner's cheek in an attempt to ground him more. Then he determinedly pushed his other hand under Danny's neck, supporting his head before urging him to sit up.

"Let's go. Gotta go now," Steve repeated with a patience he certainly didn't feel. "Come on, buddy ... sit up for me ... I'm taking you home to my place. Sit up, Danno. Let's go home, buddy."

"Steve ... what," Danny breathed out half statement, half question. He blinked, his expression communicating nothing but confusion.

"Yeah, it's me. Help me out here. Get up." Steve didn't hesitate as he gave quiet orders and followed through by pushing and prodding Danny into position. His executive decision was now completely non-negotiable and firmly being exercised by a dictator who was battling benevolence in lieu of tough love. Without stopping, he supported Danny's head as he pulled him up into a seated position on the sofa, physically pushing each of Danny's legs to the side, his feet falling to the floor. When Danny's head wobbled under his hand and the confused frown settled more on the pale face, Steve merely shrugged at the unintelligible grunts that followed. The sounds could have been his name or something meant to be questions. None of that mattered any more to him. Danny needed an intervention and Steve was the one self-elected to do the intervening. Simple as that.

"Get up. We're leaving," Steve stated firmly. "Stand up. Let's go."

"S'mthin' hppn?" Danny slurred as Steve forced him to his feet where that wobble intensified. Danny grabbed awkwardly at the back of Steve's t-shirt as his balance refused to kick in. His fingers fisted the material at the same time Steve tucked him to his side to take nearly all of his weight. Reaching down and ignoring a few senseless murmurs of discontent from his sickly charge, Steve took up the overnight bag before virtually dragging Danny out of his house. With one hand he locked the front door and with one foot, he managed to slam it shut.

"Walk. Let's go," Steve said as he repositioned his hold on his partner. It was only a few steps to his truck, but Steve was having a hard time juggling both the overnight bag and Danny's dead weight. " _Walk_ ... use your feet, Danny, we're getting in the truck."

Steve groaned under his breath when Danny tried to listen to him. He might as well have kept his mouth shut. Danny's attempts at getting his feet to work were sad tries to say the least. Steve was better off lugging him along and when Danny stumbled, Steve finally did just that the last step or two, lifting, pushing and lifting again to get Danny hoisted up into the passenger seat.

"Steve? S'mthin' hppn?" Danny repeated when Steve buckled him in. His eyes tracked slowly as he watched Steve shove his overnight bag into the rear of the cab. "S'mthin' wrong?"

Working hard to control his temper, his worries and the tone of his voice, Steve looked up into Danny's face. Danny was squinting against the sun and if anything, a pale complexion was now ashen. He was also swallowing convulsively every few seconds, no doubt a side-effect from stress, too much medication and not enough food or water. If Grinnell hadn't already been killed, Steve would have happily done it again. _Hell_ , he'd have been glad to do it back then - back in the parking garage - to have saved Danny the anguish he was now experiencing. Steve would have done all of it. He would have battled Grinnell, Danny, and just about anybody for the right to inject himself with the damned drug. He'd have killed Grinnell, too - snapping his neck the way he'd been trained, along with the neck of the idiot's stupid underling. Steve would have done whatever it might have taken to keep Danny from having to suffer as he was now. But it was too damned late and there was no going back in time.

"Steve?" Danny asked. His eyes were still barely tracking and Steve's fingers clenched tightly before he forced himself to relax and to lay his hand on Danny's knee. He counted to five and then exhaled a calming breath, low and long, his emotions in turmoil. He must have taken too long to say something, or he sounded _off_ or even different, because Danny was aware enough to make a grab for his hand before he could close the door.

"It's all right," Steve whispered hoarsely. He really wanted nothing more than to put a rock-solid fist through the truck's glass window when he felt the subtle tremble through his partner's fingers. "We need to go, Danny," he pushed out, cringing at the simplicity of his words. Danny's head was practically wobbling on a neck that had no support at all. And even though Danny was asking a question or two, there really was no point in trying to carry on a conversation.

"But ... w'hts' wrong?" Danny pressed anyway, his confusion obvious.

 _'Everything's wrong!'_ Steve wanted to scream out in anger. Just ... what was he supposed to say? _'It's like you said before, back in the hospital, - everything is wrong! It's all gone to hell. But - why ... why the hell are you trying to do this to yourself? On your own? Without ... me? Without your o'hana when you just don't have to?'_

Instead of saying any of that though, Steve found the hint of a fake smile while he gave Danny's knee a pat and a reassuring squeeze. At least outwardly he could be thankful that his composure was soundly in place.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm taking you back to my place so you can sleep," Steve said quietly. "You shouldn't be alone."

He didn't add anything about the talk that would come after. Telling Danny of that wouldn't matter much anyway because Danny wouldn't have heard it, let alone understood it. At least Danny seemed to have finally accepted Steve's brief explanation because his eyes were going vacant, their focus lost. Head rocked back, Danny was soon falling into that same heavy doze.

"Son of a bitch," Steve bit out wearily as he scrubbed hard at his face and closed the passenger door. The fake smile dropped from his lips. For just a second, he felt a flare of guilt, but it quickly passed. Everything which had just happened - and not happened - merely validated his decision to do what he was doing. He had no choice if they were going to work this thing out together exactly as they'd planned to do from the very start. Simple as that.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	5. Chapter 5

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

When Danny opened his eyes, he was facing a pale floral-papered wall which he didn't quite recognize in a room which was bright and airy. Maybe it was late morning, or even early afternoon because sunlight was slipping through a pair of aged yellowed curtains covering a small window. Skinny beams were sometimes flitting softly over his face as the material fluttered in a mild breeze; that was likely what had woken him. Danny squinted just a bit as the curtains moved again and sunlight glided over his eyes. Rather than being startled by these odd changes though, he simply lay there on his side, barely caring at first about where he was or why. Waking like this in a peaceful room, just a bit bewildered and feeling deadened to the world, was light-years beyond his usual jolt from some horrific nightmare or memory.

With an effort borne of need, he eventually dragged himself to a seated position, blinking through a bleary-eyed daze. Nothing was really all that familiar in the bedroom. The adjoining bathroom wasn't his, nor was the bed and so, the bedroom then obviously, too, was not part of his house. But at least the clothes he was wearing were his, which wasn't saying too much based on their over-worn look. Feeling stuck inside his own head, Danny scrubbed his fingers through his scalp, dimly aware that his hair was a tangled mess.

 _Just ... what the hell was going on?_ He felt like crap and a hand over his face proved _that_ wasn't faring much better than his hair. In fact, his entire body didn't quite want to cooperate as he forced himself to his feet to wander first to the bathroom before taking a haphazard trip down a short hallway. He had to use the wall for balance as he went. His head was stubbornly holding a dull throb with every footstep and he was desperate for a drink of water ... or something at least wet since this mouth felt as if it might be permanently gummed shut. However, when he got to the end of the hallway and wound up unexpectedly coming face to face with his partner, Danny stopped dead in this track.

"Good, you're finally up," Steve said. "How do you feel?"

Danny blinked in surprise, not sure who he expected to see. Certainly not Steve, though deep down, Danny of course knew where he was and could have guessed who'd be responsible. He just hadn't bothered to expend any effort in that particular department. He hadn't wanted to face up to it.

"H-how do I... I _feel_? What the hell's going on?" Danny asked, baffled as to why his voice sounded like it had been funneled across sandpaper. He stared hard at Steve, forcing his eyes to focus, unsure of how to read his friend's bland expression. He certainly wasn't picking up on anything; but Steve was standing completely still. His face, impassive. For some strange reason, Danny found that he was offended by Steve's cautionary tactics. He should be relieved and even thankful, nonetheless Danny was suddenly annoyed by everything.

"Where the hell are we?" Danny added as he cleared his throat against its dryness, frowning when Steve raised his eyebrows at the question and chuffed a sarcastic sound. In response, Danny blinked again, somewhat surprised by the soft mental tickle which wafted almost pleasantly across his skin. It toyed with his anger and for a minute, Danny felt slightly dizzied by the change it caused.

 _Amusement? A ... joke?_ Neither was necessarily _bad_ but Danny wasn't sure what to make of the faint feelings as he unconsciously ran his hand over his arm to soothe the distracting ghost of a tingle that was already gone.

"W'where the hell are we, Steven?" Danny repeated. He knew the answer. He did. But he was still in denial and now he was annoyed with himself for getting side-tracked; belligerent about where he was and suddenly wanting to force Steve to answer for it. "What's going on?"

"Where are we? Seriously? Danny ... come on. You're still not totally with it yet are you," Steve remarked patiently, his tone soothing. He smiled and shrugged, his movements limited and purposeful. "Why don't you get cleaned up and then have something to eat."

Steve said it all very nicely and even good-naturedly, it was still an order though, not a question and Danny made a face which turned into an unhappy scowl. Things were just not making any sense at all. "Eat? Not with it? Not with _what_ exactly ...?" Danny started to object and then stopped when Steve literally turned him back the way he'd come.

"My place, Danno," Steve calmly interjected the answers to Danny's questions. "We're at my place and you're still a little out of it since you've been sleeping for practically forever. You've been sacked out in my spare bedroom since yesterday afternoon. So, the only thing you need to do now is get cleaned up. Do that ... and then maybe we'll talk. We're _definitely_ going to have something to eat."

"But ...?" Danny complained, completely flummoxed as he was pushed back into the small bathroom. "What's going on?" He stood there almost helplessly as his brain fought to function and catch up while Steve thumbed the shower on.

 _Steve's house? His spare bedroom?_ Since ... _when_? Just, _when_ the hell had that all happened? _Yesterday_? _How_ had it happened?

None of it made any sense and Danny opened his mouth to complain, yet never got the words out. Towels and clean clothes suddenly appeared from nowhere and were thrust into his arms. The spray of water pounded loudly and enticingly in the shower stall and Danny could only stare up at Steve as the room filled with a pleasant, comforting wave of steam.

Steve merely shook his head then, a soft smile on his lips as he left Danny to clean up, leaving the door ajar.

**H5O* H5O***

It had taken an astounding block of time for Danny to emerge from the depths of Steve's spare bedroom and when he finally did, Steve was ready for him. Starting with the basics, when Danny stumbled down the hallway, confused about where he'd woken and why, all Steve did was parry a few questions. Danny was out of sorts, affected by common enough side effects from the sleeping pills. He still looked tired; his confusion was part and parcel from strong medication, stress and exhaustion. And to be fair, Steve had anticipated most of it since his partner had been barely functioning the day before. Steve had gotten off easily on this round one. Way too easy in fact and he knew it. He wouldn't have the upper hand for long. One piping hot shower would be the only reprieve Steve got before Danny did rouse more. Once he was able to form more coherent thoughts, Steve wisely anticipated lucid enough arguments which he had every intention of negating, denying, or ignoring in favor of his continuing plans.

That would be the beginning of round two and hopefully Steve could come out of it unscathed. Hopefully. There weren't going to be any guarantees though. Once Danny found his tongue and came out swinging, all bets would be off.

A short time later, Steve was not to be disappointed by the ire aimed his way. It started as a muffled grumble while the water was still running. The grumble ebbed and flowed beyond the term of the shower, briefly disappearing out of necessity as Danny shaved his face. Vengeance returned then. It came back with a growled intensity before morphing loudly into a series of actual words and phrases, some more clearly heard than others. Most had to do with one of Steve's appendages being forcibly removed from his body.

 _'Okay',_ he sighed. _'Bad ... but not too bad. Almost ... normal actually.'_

A moment later, Steve visibly winced where he stood patiently waiting in the living room as a long-winded series of classic Danny-isms easily reached his ears in a tirade of sound. Their descriptive color leaked through the partially opened bathroom door and this time, Steve groaned out loud. He blanched when he heard words like _castration_ and _chainsaw_ shouted in the same breath along with his name.

 _'Yeah, that was ... really not okay,'_ he thought sarcastically to himself while shifting uncomfortably on his feet. At least the drug's frightening affects would keep Danny in check from carrying through on that threat... maybe. _'No. Probably he was safe',_ and Steve's grin was sickly for his own sake, but self preservation was important. Regardless, what was coming wasn't going to be pretty. Any pauses for Danny to feasibly take a breath of air were now punctuated by an angry thump or two and Steve winced again, preparing himself for the ultimate face-to-face confrontation.

"This is bullshit!" Danny shouted as he stormed out of the bathroom. He stalked down the hallway towards Steve, clean-shaven, his hair shining and damp, but unkempt. "Your house? How the hell did I get here?!" He rounded on Steve by the front door, looking more like himself yet still weak and physically off-balance as he teetered to a stop. "You know what, Steve? Forget it. It doesn't matter! I'll just call a cab ... or Chin, or Lou, or somebody from HPD ... even Duke! Now, get the hell out of my way!"

"No ... and calm down," Steve replied evenly as he leaned against the door, arms folded passively across his chest, resolute in every way. He schooled his expression when Danny's eyes bulged in disbelief and Steve mentally kicked himself for what he'd just said. Never tell an angry person to calm down ... never _ever_. It was a well known law of the land and with or without chainsaws or terrifying drugs, he'd screwed up royally as Danny sputtered uncontrollably in front of him.

"Calm down!?" Danny shouted even louder. His arms stretched out wide. "Calm ... _down_? Get the hell out of my way! What the hell is wrong with you ... get _out_ of my way. I'm _leaving_!"

"No no, you aren't ... and besides the fact that I've taken your wallet, cell phone, house keys and all of your credit cards, the team knows what's going on here. They'll probably come over to visit and say hi, but no one's going to argue my decision in this, Danny," Steve said, proud of himself for managing to keep his voice to a monotone. "You're staying here, Danny, until we figure this out."

"Then I'll walk," Danny hissed angrily until Steve raised a meaningful eyebrow to stare down at Danny's bare feet. Danny's response was almost comical when he followed the look. Steve had thought of just about everything and his partner wouldn't be _walking_ anywhere - at least not very far. So Steve stood there unflinchingly - unapologetically - as his partner glowered back at him.

"Just ... what in the actual _fuck_ , Steven?" Danny ground out, teeth clenched along with his fist and Steve realized he was damned lucky that Danny was so off balance and unsure of things. If he hadn't been, Steve could have expected at least a fist to his face. "You can't keep me here!"

"You can't do this alone so let's start with the easy stuff, Danno," Steve stated the truth, as calm as ever even though his insides were tangled into a bunch of knots. Danny was furious with him but Steve felt well in his rights since the only time Danny had openly shared anything at all was on the roof to the hospital. Afterwards, he'd shut down and begun a downwards spiral away from everyone around him. Though he didn't say it out loud, Steve had every intention of keeping Danny under lock and key.

"Other than your regular diet of sleeping pills, when have you eaten last? A real, solid meal ... something that counts as good food? I know what I brought you and I know what I dumped at your place. So my question is admittedly rhetorical. How long has it been? Three, four days? Maybe more? Do you even know what day of the week it is right now?"

"Three or four days? You're out of your mind. Where do you get off with all of this? Accusing me of taking too many pills?" Danny spat out. His jaw rocked from side to side, eyes flashing in rage. His fist tightened, his arm cocked back menacingly. Danny was practically chest to chest with him now and Steve felt more trapped by the door he was originally guarding. He wondered if Danny was going to take the chance at belting him anyway despite the consequences to himself.

"It's Tuesday. _Tuesday_ ... I know ...the _day_ of the week, Steven."

"Do you? Try Thursday, bud," Steve interjected softly. His anger sparked though when Danny narrowed his eyes disbelievingly at him and he slammed a finger into his chest.

"No _fucking_ way!" Danny hissed back. His finger bore a hole through Steve's chest. "You're lying ... you're doing this on purpose!" For that minute, Steve couldn't stifle his emotions or keep his own hands quiet and before he knew it, he had Danny by the front of his t-shirt.

"Damn right I'm doing this on purpose! You know what day it is? _Huh_? Do you? Because it's _Thursday_ , Danny. You lost two days ... don't you get it?! I dropped by your place on Monday and then again on Wednesday afternoon when you didn't answer your phone. I was trying to give you space and respect your decisions ... but, your damned place was a mess and you were freaking dead to the world! You ... you're a _mess_ , Danno! So yeah, I brought you back here ... and dammit, you don't even remember it happening! So don't think I feel guilty for bringing you here, because I _don't_ ... and I'd damn well do it again!"

He was breathing hard when he finally stopped shouting. It took everything he had to release the grip he had on Danny's shirt. It was so worn that it stayed bunched and puckered over his shoulder. Determinedly staring into Danny's face, Steve dabbed at the sweat he could feel collecting across his forehead, Steve noticed that only Danny's arm only twitched when he did that. They were still toe to toe. Danny's face was reddened a sickly color and he was rubbing at his chest where he'd poke Steve moments earlier. _Still - just then - only his arm twitched?_ Sure Danny was upset and feeding a bit off his anger, but Danny hadn't followed the movement in its entirety. It was a startling moment - the signals were mixed, but it could signify the beginning of a major win - and Steve's stomach clenched from a spike of nerves.

 _It meant something._ Rather than drawing attention to the subtle lapse though, Steve forced himself to calm the hell back down. Jumping to conclusions prematurely wouldn't help either one of them.

"Danny, you need help," Steve said as he relaxed his stance. "I need you to stay here. You need _help_ and we agreed to do this together; and that's exactly what we're going to do."

"You can't fix this," Danny whispered hoarsely. His fingers clenched and unclenched repeatedly. He was trembling, sweating and rocking on his feet. He backed up a step, then two. "You can't fix ... _me_. It's over. Done. I don't know why you're doing this. There's no point."

"Why? I can't believe you'd even ask that, Danno. _Why_? Because you're my best friend and that _is_ the point," Steve replied. He took a deep breath to rediscover his calmer center and his posture softened even more. "It's the only point that matters - it's the only _why_ that matters. And maybe ... just _maybe_ you aren't as broken as you think you are, Danno. Did you ever consider that?"

Danny wavered in place at the simplicity of Steve's argument. His mouth moved again as if wanting to argue or at least say something in his own defense, but nothing came out even though it was plain that he might not believe a single word which Steve had just said. To him, things were helpless and hopeless; he had no options left at all and Danny gulped hard, his eyes wide.

"You need help," Steve repeated. "I need you to stay here. With me. Please."

Danny briefly closed his eyes and shook his head, still breathing hard. He backed up even more until it felt like there was a gulf between them. Steve stayed cautious, wondering what Danny might do next despite his temper coming down. But Danny only opted to hold his hands out towards Steve, much like he had on the roof to the hospital, looking every bit dismayed when they remained as steady as could be despite his internal war.

"I can't trust myself ... Steve, I just ... can't," Danny whispered beseechingly. "If the gun hadn't jammed ... you'd be dead right now. You would be."

"I know you think that and I respect how messed up this and how damned worried you are. I swear that I do ... and I understand what happened. I was there ... don't forget that, Danny. I _saw_ ... and I get it," Steve murmured gently. "But Danny ... what happened back at that parking garage wasn't your fault. It was Grinnell and that damned drug ... you had no choice at the time and I'd have done the exact same thing. Maybe even faster than you did. My point is, Danno, about these particular memories ... maybe they're memories we can talk about and work through."

"Work through what? Freezing when you need me to back you up? Hesitating and nearly getting you killed? Because of that damned drug I killed two men... I felt them die. I felt ... all of it and it won't go away. They're stuck in my head ...," Danny said, only pausing to practically punch himself in the chest and Steve winced in sympathy. "I can _feel_ them in here! Everything gets stuck _here_ ... inside ... a-and I can't think ... I can't function! I hesitated at the gas station and almost got you killed because I was _scared_. So, there's nothing to talk about, Steve! You can't trust me anymore. I'm a liability," he finished in a fast rush, eyes glistening. "To you ... the team ... to just about everybody."

"Not to me you're not. And, I don't want anyone else backing me up... so don't even try to go there," Steve stated firmly. "As far as trust goes? I'll always trust you, Danno. No matter what. You're right that you're scared and I get it ... it only means that your human. But I think we need to talk; figure things out before you decide to throw in the towel. Figure out what's stuck in that thick skull of yours and which thing might be part of the drug; if anything's really left inside."

"It's the same thing," Danny whispered. He shook his head, unsure of what Steve was getting at. "It's all the same; it's _all_ inside."

"How can you be so sure about that?" Steve gently challenged back. Danny was far from stupid, but he was balled up and traumatized during a time when the drug was at its strongest pinnacle in his bloodstream. He'd done something terrible and keenly remembered it because he'd truly felt both men die. Steve believed every single word that Danny said. He'd seen the aftermath with his own two eyes. His friend was justifiably afraid of what he'd felt that day and now, he was incapable of thinking beyond his nose. Danny was fickle and confused; he barely knew what he wanted from one day to the next. Steve couldn't - and wouldn't - ever blame Danny for any part of what he was experiencing. But Danny needed to give himself a break, too. He needed to reconcile what could be a traumatic experience and dissect it away from the drug's affects. Just maybe by now they were two different things and the possibility was worth talking about.

"Come on. Let's eat," Steve said as he changed the subject. He pushed himself off the door and took Danny's wrist, ignoring the way his friend tried to flinch out from his hold. Ignoring how Danny suddenly fell quiet and tried to pull away when he tucked him under his arm, most likely wanting to escape to go anywhere in order to be alone. Steve had had enough of Danny's ability to disappear of late. So when he'd said that he'd wanted to start with the easy stuff when Danny had first woken up after an incredibly long sleep, Steve had been absolutely serious.

 _Sleep - shower - food._ First things first; conquer the small stuff one step at a time and the rest would come in due course. They'd ride this damned thing out together as they'd agreed from the very beginning. Danny could kick and scream the entire way, but Steve would see to it.

"I'm starving and I've got a plate for you to warm up," Steve said as he firmly persisted in guiding Danny to the kitchen. "First things first ... you, my friend, are going to eat at least one square meal before we do anything else at all."

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: sorry for the delay, bad turkey-ed out muse was unmotivated and persnickety. I'm not too pleased w this chapter to be honest. It's a wordy/descriptive thing. I couldn't get it to feel right and just threw in the towel.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve stood in his kitchen, looking out the window over the sink. He was watching his partner pace the sands along the beach behind his house, wanting to go back out to him and yet, unable to. He didn't dare. At least, not yet. Steve winced as he watched Danny's Longboard go sailing into the Pacific. As the bottle flew through the air, beer splattered in a wide arc, spewing froth before it sank deeply into a wave. It was a good thing that the two Adirondack chairs were too heavy for Danny to budge because if they hadn't been, they'd be following suit.

"Shit," he said with a shake of his head as he watched Danny stalk closer to the waters' edge where he paused, then turned to the right, seemingly opting for any direction to put space between them. Eventually, he disappeared from sight and Steve wearily braced himself against the counter while sucking his bruised bottom lip into his mouth. His jaw ached and his head was already running a close second. He leaned over and spat another thick droplet of bloody saliva into the sink's basin to follow the few pooling pink in the running water. He hadn't meant for Danny to feel trapped or dictated to; he'd only ever intended to help him. For just a moment, Steve waffled, feeling that same guilt he'd felt for days tighten his gut. But then he remembered how he'd found Danny, curled up on his sofa and nearly dead to the world. The open bottle of pills and the spoiled food. Their initial blow-ups for days on end over that same bottle of pills. Steve had had to take control. If he hadn't stepped in, Steve couldn't imagine where Danny's head would have wound up after being hit so hard by the lingering synesthetic affects of Grinnell's drug combined with an overwhelming emotional trauma. Or maybe he _could_ and that imagining was terrifying. He'd had to do something and if today's pay-off was the mother of all arguments and a split lip, he'd take it and say thank you.

The tension between them had become an unhealthy norm. But that evening's argument had finally boiled over. It had begun when Steve had refused to pony-up Danny's bottle of prescription sleeping pills. It had worsened when Steve had suggested - not too politely - that taking sleeping pills after three or four beers wasn't exactly a good plan to follow for Danny to get over his issues. Maybe not so shockingly after all, Steve had literally been rocked onto his ass seconds later. Over-tired or not, synesthetic repercussions aside, Danny's fist had finally and unerringly connected with Steve's jaw.

 _Yeah_. Maybe he shouldn't have used the word _issues_ in the heat of an argument. _Maybe_ , Steve should have started to back off on his partner instead of keeping to his wheedling, questioning ways.

As he stared at his now vacant beach, Steve shook his head again as he pushed that flare of guilt off to the side. He'd done the right thing. Besides and even as he nursed his bloodied lip, Steve knew that Danny would be back soon; Steve had no doubts about it and for the first time, he wasn't worried about needing to chase his partner down the beach. For all they'd been through in the last few weeks and despite his partner's incredible rise in anger that late afternoon, the situation was suddenly very different.

"Come on," Steve slurred to himself as he got stuck in his thoughts. He was kidding himself if he wasn't worried just a little bit. Danny had continued to rely on prescription meds to shut his brain down. That part was bad. He was insistent that he needed them to get a modicum of rest. Steve disagreed of course, ergo the reason he was standing over his kitchen sink dripping blood. Nevertheless, he was tired of the arguing and to be truthful, even relieved that Danny had finally done _something_ even if it meant that Steve was now sporting a fat lip. This part was actually good. So for once, Steve wasn't overly concerned that his partner wasn't in sight or hiding in the spare bedroom or tearing up the house looking for a hidden pill bottle or ignoring him out on the lanai. What had just happened was damned good and Steve began to smile around a lip that was fast becoming swollen. No, this part wasn't bad at all. It _was_ damned good and Steve kept grinning despite the painful drag on his cut lip while he used his hand to cup water from the faucet to swipe the red away.

"I was right and now? Well, now you know it," Steve whispered out loud, his tone more glad and relieved than pleased. "Now you know it."

Now they both knew it. Steve lifted his head, glancing out the window to see if Danny had come back. It was far too soon though and Danny was no doubt craving space to think. Knowing he had time, Steve grabbed a kitchen chair. He dragged it over to the tall glass-front hutch to stand on. On the highest shelf, stuck inside his mother's bone-china gravy boat, Steve fished out his partner's hidden pill bottle. He tossed it once into the air, grinning like a loon while he put the chair back and left the prescription meds front and center on the kitchen table.

Things were different because if Danny had expected a mirrored flux of pain when he'd brazenly lashed out at Steve and he'd felt almost nothing at all. _Almost_. Steve had seen the difference immediately while Danny had both seen and _felt_ it. It hadn't been perfect, not by a long shot, but it was better. In that instant, Steve had seen a flicker of disbelief in Danny's eyes. He'd clearly read it in the stunned reaction of how Danny had expected something so much more.

Steve's grin deepened because he _had_ really seen it. Sitting on his ass in the sand, he'd dabbed at his mouth before the pain kicked in. He'd stared up at his partner equally stunned to find himself laid nearly flat out. Shocked, when his fingers came back bloodied. But then Steve had really looked at his partner. He'd looked at Danny's hands first and though fisted, they'd barely moved an inch towards his face. Danny had been backing up then, practically stumbling backwards in anticipation of _something_ ... something terrible which hadn't quite happened. And Steve had to chuckle out loud at his reaction. Danny was impossible to figure out because evidently, what _hadn't happened_ was just as hard for his friend to stomach.

So, the change was imperfect and incomplete. A diluted reflection of _what_ , Steve didn't know yet. But Danny would tell him once he had time to muddle through and understand the depth of any sensations mired in the experience. Determined to wait Danny out, Steve go himself an ice pack from the freezer and took a seat at the kitchen table. He would wait and then they'd talk again.

 

**H5O* H5O**

Danny's walk had become a slow and steady jog down the beach, away from the house. Away from Steve and the near-suffocating atmosphere of just too much of everything. Completely away from a confusing internal deluge of emotions and feelings which he simply didn't understand. He kept the pace up until his lungs burned and sweat was pouring down his face. Until he felt sick enough to vomit and then pushed himself even harder. He hated to run, but he needed to move and find a way to quell the cinders which still threatened deep inside his core. For all his best intentions, Steve would never get that part of things. _Never_.

Still ... Danny stumbled to a stop and closed his eyes, heaving and gulping down a caustic surge of beer-tainted bile. His hand still wasn't shaking when he touched his cheek or lip and then his chin. He was glad that the sun was beginning to set and the errant person or two on the beach probably couldn't see his face all too well. Danny wasn't sure what his expression might have been just then.

 _Still_? He'd lost his temper and then forgotten to be afraid. He'd balled his hand into a fist before he could even reconsider what he was going to do. Before he knew what he'd done, Steve was sprawled out in the sand, looking every bit as shocked as Danny had been, thumbing a trickle of blood away from the side of his mouth. What the hell had he ... _done_? He wasn't better and yet ... was he? _Still?_ It was _still_ there ... something inside him had flared alive. That frightening heated core had flared and pulsed and yet, he'd barely _felt_ what he'd done to Steve on his own cheek. Bruised knuckles aside, to Danny, he'd only felt a sympathetic vibration along his jawline.

Danny turned around to retrace his footsteps back the way he'd come; an impressive distance from the house due to his steady jog. Regardless, Danny expected to see his partner hovering nearby and yet, there was no sign of him. Only a few people dotted the beach at this later hour and those that were still there, were focused on the brilliant hues of the setting sun which was nearly gone on the horizon. He was alone and Danny barked back a startled, sharp laugh while knuckling his sternum. He was really _alone_. Steve hadn't followed him even at a respectable distance - and why would he have done that? Danny had no right to think that Steve would have come after him this time. Biting back another sharp laugh, Danny couldn't blame him at all. His partner had every right to give up on him now.

It was a true dusk by the time Danny saw the beach-head to Steve's house. He was completely deflated by then. The lanai and property were impossible to miss with how Steve had apparently made sure every single light was lit or tiki torch set ablaze. As he approached, Danny spied the familiar silhouette, backlit by light, pacing a tight circle. Based on the man's stance alone and the set of the broad shoulders, Danny knew that Steve was upset and on high alert. Ready for war while he was utterly wrung out. No doubt, Steve was waiting for him for that one last go round and Danny sighed tiredly, scrubbing his hand though his hair as he tried to ready himself for what would likely be the final altercation.

"Where the hell have you been?" Steve's voice reached him first when Danny stopped walking just shy of their chairs - _no, Steve's chairs._

"Nowhere ... just walking," Danny replied truthfully. He felt tired and depressed. Absolutely limp as Steve approached him. "I'll .. _uh_ ... pack up my things."

He hadn't meant to say that, just as he hadn't really thought about hitting Steve in the first place. But this time, the words seemed reasonable enough especially since Steve was already in his airspace with tension radiating off him, and clearly intent on blocking Danny's way. Wanting to back up, Danny managed to at least hold his ground while he looked into his friend's face and winced. Steve's chin was purpling into a dark bruise, his lip, swollen.

"I'm ... _uh_ ... sorry for that," Danny said, his eyes riveted to the swelling on Steve's lip. "Really. I wasn't thinking and I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"No, no you weren't," Steve objected quietly and Danny blinked in surprise at the unexpected change in course. "I crossed that line first and well ... I might have deserved it. But it's fine ... I'm fine. No harm done, Danno." He paused then, the severity dropping from the square breadth of his shoulders. However, his forehead was pinched with concern.

"Hey? Are you okay?"

Danny froze in place unaware until then that his fingers had been tracing the same places along his lip and jawline. He stared at Steve as if seeing him for the first time, his mouth gaping wide but unable to find a single thing to say. With an effort, Danny forced his hand to his side and looked down at the ground where he could kill the urge. He wasn't better and yet ... he _was_ , wasn't he? _Still?_ There was something else which was _still_ there ... something inside of him.

"Danny?" Steve's voice broke though his semi-trance. "Are you all right, buddy?"

"Yeah. Sure. Fine," he finally whispered distractedly. And he was because he didn't feel anything on the surface. Nothing more than a featherlight vibration just like before. He could only assume that his hand had sought to mirror out of habit and maybe it was now even surprised by the loss. Or - and Danny suppressed a shudder - because it couldn't reach the simmering itch inside.

"What's wrong then? What are you feeling?" Steve asked. He must have seen something in Danny's face or posture. His tone brooked no argument, forcing Danny to answer as best as possible.

"Inside. It's ... uncomfortable. Tight ... hot," Danny offered quietly. He made a fist and tapped his chest in that same treacherous spot. "Maybe not as bad, but something is still off."

"Okay. All right," Steve said thoughtfully. "And now ... _here_? Look at me. Look at this," He touched his face; the bruise on his chin. "The first time, too. What's going on, Danno? What did you feel?"

There was a hope in Steve's voice which was unmistakable and Danny had to nod when he looked up. "It's ... okay," he whispered after a moment. "Mostly okay."

That uncomfortable heat was still inside him and would probably never go away. While it was less, it probably wouldn't ever diminish as much as the mirror-touch synesthesia seemed to be finally abating. So what he _was_ feeling or not feeling so much of, was different and ... not entirely all that bad. Danny nodded, his voice stronger and more convincing than it had been.

"Mostly okay?" Steve repeated.

"Hardly anything at all," Danny clarified. "It's _mostly_ left over here ... inside."

"That's better, right? It's good," Steve replied. He smiled then, risking opening the fresh cut on his lip. "Real good, Danno. You want to go in now? Get some rest ... and anyway, I want to apologize, too."

Danny frowned at that, confused by Steve suddenly changing the subject. Then by wanting or even thinking that he needed to apologize at all. "For what?" he asked. "You didn't _do_ anything ..."

"Yeah, well. Maybe I did and I'm sorry. Your meds...," Steve reminded him as he tugged Danny towards the lanai and the welcoming brightness of the house. "I'm sorry, too, for being a total ass about everything tonight. I was only worried ... so your meds, they're on the table if you want them - or need them. And, _uh_ ...you're gonna stay, right? I mean unless you really think you should go."

Danny shook his head out of sheer frustration. Of course he was going to stay by that point. He'd been worried too about the fallout stemming from his actions. He chuffed a helpless sound in his throat for the odd circular dance they'd fallen into of apologies and awkward moments.

"I'd prefer if you stayed though," Steve added quietly when Danny didn't immediately answer. "It's late ... "

"Okay, okay! Yeah, I guess I am ... _staying_ ," Danny interrupted. He smiled then, warmly, relieved by where they were ending up after a long, exhausting evening. He tapped Steve lightly on his chest, helpless to do anything else when Steve grinned and wound up needing to dab at the tiny, bloody spot on his lip.

"Yeah, I'm staying. For now," he teased. "For _now_ ..."

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: this next chapter WAS originally a tiny time jump. However, the evil breakfast bunny (as overfed and connived by JazziG) forced a slower pace (it's fat & lazy now you know since it gets loved on by its Auntie JazzieG) and insisted (stubborn, spoiled, fickle hare) that a chronological tact be followed (stupid stupid rabbit). No time jump ... new chapter .. ugh.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny didn't like to admit it. Call it pride, or whatever you'd like, he just didn't like to admit that Steve had been mostly right from the very start of this entire debacle. He was too tired to be annoyed; far too immersed in his own thoughts to be truly annoyed though. It wasn't even as if Steve would rub the fact that he'd been right in his face. He wouldn't because Steve would be - and was - more relieved and thankful of every bit of progress which Danny had made much more than he'd ever want to be rudely prideful. Still, Danny didn't like to admit that Steve was right because his friend had done it again. Steve had uncovered something new and as Danny stood in the curling tease of foamy ripples which occasionally swelled deeper to cover his ankles, he felt as if he were really standing outside his own body. Once more, Danny hadn't noticed something significant and now, Steve was worried again and this time, in an entirely new direction. Danny sighed and closed his eyes against the too bright sparkle of the waves which trickled in at a steady pace. Grinnell was dead and Danny was still suffering. Steve thought so much was better and yet he, Danny, knew he'd never be right. Never exactly how he used to _be_. None of it was fair and Danny was better and yet, more adrift than ever before.

As a rush of water slapped higher against his knees, Danny mulled over what Steve had hesitantly shared with him that morning and compared it to where he was standing right now. Alone. Nothing to hear but gulls and the occasional wave. It was relatively quiet. A solitary place where he didn't need to speak or be around others. One might think it peaceful even, nonetheless none of these things were typical Williams' traits and being solitary in particular, certainly not Danny's. So once again, Steve was right. Each of his quietly offered examples had been spot-on true from the beginning back in the damned unused parking garage when Danny had unconsciously chosen to go down, all the way through to that remote location on the hospital's rooftop, to where he was standing that very minute. _Steve was right,_ just like he'd also been right about the nightmares and the trauma which Danny had internalized. Steve had been right about Danny's purposeful need to bisect that trauma away from the more tangible lingering affects of Grinnell's drug. That win had been huge and Danny had begun to sleep again. Long, normal hours which were uninterrupted for the most part. Not really knowing how it had even happened, Steve had coaxed Danny through an overwhelming mix of baggage which Danny had originally glommed together as part and parcel of just ... _everything_.

He ran his hands though his hair and wound up clutching at the strands where they got stuck between his fingers. He stood there, immobile, squeezing so hard, he pulled painfully at his own roots. He was done. Finished. Better and not better, and Danny didn't know where to land or what to do anymore. This new version of him ached to be alone and lately, refused speech or conversation. Once he'd realized that Steve was right, Danny had half-heartedly agreed that morning to follow Steve's lead and then he'd promptly escaped the house to walk. _No. No._ To be _alone_.

In fact, he'd gone so far down the beach, Danny barely knew where he was. But he'd been driven to walk until there wasn't a person in sight and he'd only managed that feat once he'd picked his way through a tiny minefield of volcanic stones, until the sand had begun to run out and he risked cutting his feet. He scarcely realized what he'd done until he'd found himself at the cusp of heavy, black volcanic rock with nowhere else to go.

"We're going out," Steve said from behind him and Danny's fingers tightened even more across his scalp. He didn't bother to turn around or release the death grip he had on his own head. He wasn't startled or even surprised by Steve's voice. It was that Danny felt ... distressed by Steve's need to follow him. By learning that he wasn't as alone as he'd been assuming. "Somewhere where there's people ... so I'm thinking the mall. Window shop, walk around ... it'll be good for you."

 _Good_ for him? Danny spontaneously shook his head to the contrary while he finally let his arms drop limply down. _No_. That uncomfortable heat briefly flared in his core and then just as quickly abated. Maybe it hadn't even happened and Danny closed his eyes, feeling dizzy again. That very morning, he'd made a helpless promise to let Steve lead. But the mall? _No_ , Danny had no interest in going for a walk or shopping or doing whatever Steve was cooking up inside his head. Sleeping in the confines of Steve's spare bedroom - now that would be a better option.

"It's a bad idea," Danny said to the ocean as he blinked his eyes back open, squinting against the glare. "It won't work ... it won't prove anything."

"Trust me," Steve replied calmly. "You _are_ better, Danno. You have to get over his hurdle though." He'd stepped closer to stand just behind Danny in the shallows. He was so close now, their shoulders were just touching. "You said that you'd trust me. Why not with this? It's not a big deal ...and maybe it won't prove anything at all - or maybe it will. But Danno, all you have to do is _try_ ..."

"I do," Danny interrupted. "I do trust you ... and I _am_ trying. It's ... people. Being around people ... it's a mistake." His voice was soft though and his tone, not entirely convincing. He wound up shaking his head again when Steve merely dug in harder. "I don't understand how you can seriously believe this is going to help me or prove something. What would this prove, Steve, _huh_? What?"

"For one, getting out will get you away from doing this," Steve answered. He moved then, firmly guiding Danny out of the shallows, forcing him to begin picking a path back the way they'd come. Shepherded along, Danny had no choice but to start walking. "What you're doing now - what you've been doing all along beginning with this damned leave of absence. You've given up. This ... being _here_ in the middle of nowhere ... this is not fighting Danny. This is running away. This is giving up. If this is part of the drug, you have to acknowledge it and fight it. Fight it, Danno and move on. Keep doing it every time. Every single time!"

"I have been fighting it," Danny replied. "Things are ... better. Some things, anyway." He knew he was wrong though. Lying to himself because he had given up. He wasn't coping. He was damned scared and failing miserably at conquering anything during this supposed leave of absence. A leave that was slowly becoming a permanent situation and something which Danny sensed Steve was gearing up to eventually confront him with in what would be a no-holds barred quarrel.

"Danny," Steve said his name while pulling on his right arm to get him on better ground. "Look where you are? Would you just _look_? Where you are right now proves my point! What the hell are you doing?! You're in the middle of nowhere, buddy and you said you'd try my way. So, come on ... take a deep breath. Trust me and let's go back to the house. Let's get cleaned up and let's just _try_ something different. Okay? If it's bad ... if you really can't handle it, we'll leave. But we have to try."

Steve's question about the mall wasn't really a question at all. Danny felt all his words dry up. He couldn't find a single thing to say to object the way he wanted to. As he was herded back towards the house, Steve's arm slung comfortably over his shoulder, Danny shook his head because he was full of so many misgivings. He trusted Steve. He did. He also knew that Steve had been right time and again. Nonetheless, it felt wrong and that spot in Danny's chest flickered hotly in warning. He felt an overpowering urge to pull away from Steve's casual hold and turn away; no ... to _run_ away and hide.

Danny stumbled awkwardly over absolutely nothing as his brain fought this odd instinctual feeling to flee. He lost his footing and would have fallen to his knees if not for Steve's quick reflexes.

"Hey!" Steve practically barked in surprise as he pulled Danny back up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Shit," Danny murmured under his breath. If not for Steve's grip on his elbow, he felt as if might have been halfway down the beach. It was a disconcerting realization and Danny knuckled his sternum hard.

"Danny?" Are you sure?' Steve pressed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm good ... just tripped," Danny said, letting the lie trip off his tongue as badly as his near fall. Knowing without a doubt that Steve saw right through it. Especially when his friend refused to release his arm as they started forward again.

"Sure," Steve muttered quietly. "Tripped. Okay."

It was a lame excuse and Steve hadn't really bought all of it. Danny knew better because he could feel his friend's eyes on him. Steve was worried and ... _Steve was right._

Danny had to close his eyes for a moment, blindly trusting Steve to guide his feet. No matter how he felt or the feel of that smoldering heat, Danny had to fight. So, on that bright sunny day, they were evidently going out to a place where Danny would be asked to conquer all of his demons simultaneously. A place as benignly dull as a shopping mall.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: wow, the muse failed this week in producing something here! Sorry for the delay! Thanks to my wonderful beta for her honest opinion of what needed massive massaging. Of course that feedback meant that this was NOT the last chapter ... sigh.

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Bad idea. This whole thing was turning into a very bad idea. Steve could feel literally feel it as the tension reverberated around them. Unable to help himself, he glanced over to where Danny was scrunched down in the passenger seat of his pickup truck. Eyes closed, arms wrapped protectively around his middle, Danny was in complete denial despite having agreed to following Steve's lead. And maybe right there, that was the catalyst behind all of Steve's newly growing doubts and what he could only describe as a feeling of guilt for maybe pushing too hard. He wished that Danny would verbally blast him from one end of Oahu to the other rather than maintain this silence and rigid posture. Out of desperation, he resorted to using the background hum of the police radio as white noise. Without at least that bland chatter from HPD, Steve was sure he'd be able to hear a pin drop inside the cabin of his truck.

"Are you going to say anything?" Steve asked as he half-listened to an HPD dispatcher announce a 10-33 for an alarm being triggered at a busy downtown public laundromat. "At all? Like ... ever?" He was unable to stop himself from at least trying to goad the bear.

"Are you going to stop staring at me? Like ... _ever_?" Danny retorted in a voice that was gruff from stress and Steve managed a slightly relieved grin for the accompanying tinge of sarcasm. It was a start.

"How do you know I'm looking at you if your eyes are closed?" Steve argued back over a surge of activity humming over the radio. "What is that? Some new kind of skill you haven't told me about?"

He paused though suddenly distracted, barely breathing, sensing that Danny was doing the same as dispatch repeated a 10-57 at that very same laundromat. They were attuned to their jobs no matter what and their mutual reaction was comforting. Steve listened quietly for a moment. Things were escalating and getting out of hand at the laundromat. Additional units would be needed to manage mounting concerns if weapons had truly been discharged.

Almost automatically, Steve mentally checked his location to that of the report, tallying up the minutes in his head. At first he scowled but then he sensed Danny's irritated fidget next to him and that scowl quickly turned into a grin because that squirrelly fidget meant that Danny didn't like what he was hearing. He was anxious to get back into the fray; get back to work where he belonged. The job was far too ingrained inside of him - more so than Grinnell's drug could ever be - and no matter what, Danny could never _not_ be a cop. The problem at the gas station on Farrington had rattled Danny hard, but it would fade. Steve simply knew it would if Danny could just find some modicum of trust in himself.

"So," Steve prompted lightly as the chatter briefly ceased. HPD would handle the dispute and they were off-duty, he smiled as he brought their conversation back to topic. "So ... this new skill with your eyes closed? I like it ... this new mind reading thing ... you should've told me."

There was an incredulous snort in response, even if Danny still had his eyes virtually welded shut. "Just … knock if off already, _huh_?" Danny muttered, though a tiny smile did break through his armor. "You wanted to try this stupid experiment? So fine, we're trying it ... but I never said I had to like it. And whatever happens? Just know now that it's entirely your fault."

"Oh, for God's sake! Danny, open your eyes and relax," Steve said with a kindly, patient chuckle. "It's just the mall and I know ... I _know_ things are going to be okay."

But truth be told, Steve was trying to convince himself of that now, too. No matter his light attempts at conversation, Danny was tense and on edge. What he saw as a simple, harmless experiment was different for his partner. Danny's physical reaction no longer made Steve's idea feel all that simple and Steve found himself schooling his expression against worry as he quickly studied his friend's profile. Danny's complexion was wan and he was literally drenched in sweat - and they hadn't even parked yet. In fact, they hadn't even gotten off the highway yet. An uncomfortable feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach and Steve hunched and rolled his shoulders in a vain attempt to relieve some of his own muscular kinks. Next to him, Danny fidgeted, too, apparently just as uncomfortable the closer they got to their destination.

"Hey. You hear that?" Danny suddenly asked. His tone was different enough, serious enough, for Steve to practically turn to face him in confusion. "This is messed up. They're making a run for it with a hostage." He gestured unexpectedly towards the radio, his interest piqued _enough_ to wipe some of the stress from his eyes.

"What? Who?" At first Steve was sure that his partner was only changing the subject but he heard it then. The code 20's and a flurry of what would have once been a confusing cross talk of other codes and demands for caution. He realized the chatter still referred to the altercation or incident at the laundromat and he frowned for a moment until his brain caught up with things. What it all boiled down to was more officers on the scene and more than an implied loss of control. Danny had been listening more closely than he.

"Hostage? They're on the move?" Steve asked. On impulse, he looked directly into the rear view mirror while he thumbed up the volume and really listened. His eyes widened in surprise . "How the hell?" He'd been caught up in his own thoughts about his partner and he'd missed most of the latest exchanges over the radio. He heard them now though, easily concluding what Danny had. But what he saw in the mirror was shocking. Steve's mouth gaped open as he blinked in surprise to be sure he was really seeing the speeding vehicle gaining on their six from a distant on-ramp to the highway.

"Brace yourself, Danno," Steve said. He multi-tasked on the fly, changing lanes and making plans to line themselves up. His shoddy plan was founded more on reaction and gut instinct; it was no doubt dangerous for them, but safer for an innocent public as two cars collided behind them. The sedan's driver was hell-bent on escaping ... and a hostage was involved. With victims mounting, Steve didn't hesitate.

"Brace myself?" Danny scowled at the command. "No. What?" He asked suspiciously, likely already guessing though. "Why?"

"Sabbatical's over, partner," Steve said as he braked sharply before accelerating to merge into the center lane of the highway. The move was hard enough to rock them both and Danny cursed as he grabbed for the dashboard.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Danny yelped as his head rapped the glass of the window. "You're going to kill someone ... namely me!"

"They're right behind us and coming up fast," Steve remarked as he craned his head to eye the rear view mirror and then clocked the immediate skyline for the HPD helicopter reported as being in the air. He glanced over towards his partner again only to motion wildly with his hand towards the glove compartment. A second later, Steve was reaching under his seat for his own spare weapon, easily flipping the gun out of its holster with a practiced thumb.

"Brace yourself and _get the spare_!" Steve practically shouted at him. "Do it!"

"Are you kidding me right now!" Danny choked out as he quickly half-turned to look back down the highway. Cars were weaving out of the way behind them to avoid being side-swiped by a speeding dark blue sedan. The two which had collided early on, were smoking where they'd rolled off the road, partially on the shoulder. Beyond that mounting chaos, no less than three HPD vehicles were trailing even farther behind. Still too far back to do any good whatsoever in stopping the vehicle rocketing their way.

"Son of a bitch!" Danny hissed through gritted his teeth as he popped the glove compartment open where another spare sidearm was safely housed in its holster. Next to that, he recognized the familiar glint of his own badge and he took a brief second to glare in annoyance at the side of Steve's head, brandishing the official object between them, forcing Steve to acknowledge why it was there in the first place. Their eyes met and Steve shrugged helplessly.

"Just ... just get the damned gun and get ready, Danny," Steve said. His own expression challenged Danny's in kind until a cocky grin broke through. Danny cursed under his breath when Steve readied his hand on the gear shift, the other firm on the wheel. He could only shrug again as he judged the amount of room he had left around them. He had to stop the getaway car first and then safely rescue the hostage. With the heavy reinforced rear bumper of his truck, this idea would be their best bet ... in theory. He would insert themselves as a moving blockade to slow the sedan down as gently and as carefully as possible. Rescue the hostage in one, whole safe piece. Then ... the perps would be next and how that panned out with HPD bringing up their six would be up to them.

"Brace yourself, buddy," Steve said again. "We gotta stop them."

"Animal," Danny snorted at him. The sound was weak and Steve couldn't decide if it was a sarcastic sound or if Danny was just resigning himself - might even be afraid - about having to cope with the unexpected. For a flitting moment, Steve felt a flare of concern for him. They had no time though to reason things out and Steve mentally apologized to his partner.

"Ready?" Steve prompted as he tallied up the ever-decreasing distance between himself and the blue sedan. "In three, Danno ...yeah?" He couldn't help the devilish look he aimed at his partner, both worried and then oddly pleased when he got a more typical eye-roll in response. _Sarcastic_ then Steve decided and he grinned widely as Danny white-knuckled the dashboard with his free hand, his seatbelt straining as he tightened it over his shoulder.

"You did this on purpose didn't you?" Danny mumbled and Steve laughed out right as his partner squeezed his eyes shut for an entirely different reason.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: tracks? what tracks? did this story have a plan? huh.*scratches head in confusion* ...

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

If Danny thought Steve's driving bold and oftentimes insane, their perps were either ten times more off the charts or that much more motivated to have things go their way. Bad guys were up two if you counted the hostage still in their hands - which Danny certainly did. Good guys, an embarrassing zero. Steve had definitely been surprised by the driver's antics to accelerate versus brake, taking on Steve's game of chicken with an unbridled glee. And now even though everyone was momentarily grounded, the perps seemed damned comfortable with how things had panned out. Whereas for himself, Steve, the female hostage, and a rather long laundry list of innocent civilians, including the few HPD lingering nearby, not so much. None of them dared to shoot in fear of hitting the innocent hostage.

" _Danny_." Steve's voice was tunneled far away. _"Stand down ... it's no good."_ Easy to ignore, which Danny chose to do. He had far too other things to contend with right then.

Except for the blood streaming down the side of his face, the fact he was standing on an over-heated highway amidst the caustic odors of gasoline, diesel and burning rubber, the stink of malodors made it just like the damned gas station incident over on Farrington so many weeks ago. But now they had two gun-wielding crazy lunatics. So if it was deja vu, it was that times two with a hostage added just for shits and giggles.

As a pinkish bead of sweat mixed with blood rolled down his cheek , Danny outwardly shivered, but inside, there was a molten brick burning a hole straight through his chest. It was off-putting and just as scary as all the other times. And unlike the knot on the side of his temple which throbbed relentlessly, that brick both hurt and didn't hurt at the same time. Arguing nausea, his gaze flickered from his quietly poised hands and the gun he held, beyond to the one standing perp. The one with the girl held in front of himself like a shield. His friend was equally still armed but on a knee behind them both, attempting to gain his footing but unable to quite get there and Danny felt a mirror'd ache in his own knee. Nothing debilitating though. For that, Danny accepted the small favors he'd been granted but they were running out of time and he was wide out in the open with nowhere to go.

" _Danny ...listen to me..._ " Steve's voice was off to his right and Danny tuned him entirely out now. _"Get under cover ... let them go. It's over ... get out of there!"_

He didn't dare look at him; not even risk a fast glance. Steve was down, lying on his side, propped up on an elbow. He'd been taken out by their second perp just one step from exiting the driver's side of the now badly damaged pickup truck. In turn, Steve had shot the man clear off his feet. Still, Danny felt they'd not earned a single score in this particular game. So Danny ignored his partner now. He needed to also ignore his own woes as much as the sound of his partner's voice because other sensations were trying to waft over him if he dared look beyond what was directly in front of his nose. He didn't dare. But he had to. He needed to act ... he needed to do something and that something began with him damning Jacob Grinnell and his designer drug all to hell. He was tired and done with all of it. Unlike Grinnell's other experimental victims, he, Danny, had survived. That meant something all by itself. Besides, he couldn't afford to have history repeat because fate wouldn't be so kind as to jam two guns in a row this time around.

People would die. The hostage would die ... Steve and he - especially he - could very well die. And Danny just wasn't going to let that happen.

"Stop it. Stop it," he muttered to himself in a non-stop quiet chant. Words mouthed repeatedly and just under his breath. " _Stop it_ ... knock it off. You're okay. It's okay ... you have to do this. Just ... suck it up ... get it done. Get it done."

That nearly insufferable heat flared in his core and yet his hands were just as deathly quiet as they'd always been. _Why didn't they ever shake?_ Why were they so, so secure and unwavering?

"Put it down," Danny said. His teeth were gritted as he argued that deep internal discomfort. "You're not going anywhere. So just put it down and let the girl go."

The man's eyes narrowed at the same time a slow, macabre smile lifted the corners of his mouth. It was as if he knew what Danny might be thinking and Danny almost lost his resolve. Ever so slightly, the man shook his head from left to right to decline Danny's demands. He kept Danny's eye as he gestured curtly to the nearest car he intended to car-jack from the small pile-up they'd caused on the highway. Its owner had bolted, arms flung over his head, at the first volley of gunshots. At the time, Danny thought the man foolhardy, now he was relieved that man was no where near the altercation. Nevertheless, he was not going to let their armed perps take the now vacant vehicle.

"Back off," the perp said. "Back off nice and slow, or I kill you ... then _her_ ...and still go free."

"No," Danny replied. "This will be a lot easier if you just let her go ... put your gun down ... give it up now."

"Or what?" The man asked before looking at Steve and chuckling softly. "Is this guy serious? You need to put a leash on this _lolo_."

" _Danny_." He heard Steve's voice at the end of a distant tunnel. _"What the hell are you doing?"_ More firm and wracked with tension, Steve meant it. Again, Danny tuned him out. He shifted his stance, the heat from the macadam was burning a dual set of holes thorough the thin soles of his shoes. He looked at the girl - the hostage - and his eyes settled on her clear hazel ones. Clear, beautiful eyes. Cloudless and calm. The epiphany came then and later, Danny would wonder why it hadn't come earlier to him. Maybe it was the girl who prompted it. Maybe it was because he was like Steve always kidded him: negative, a glass half empty kind of guy and he'd had enough.

Or, it might have been because he really had grown sick of fighting everything Grinnell's drug had done to him. He liked this latter thought but sensed its falsehood as his gaze was pulled back to the girl's eyes, the tight crinkle. Her mouth twitched and he paused as the epiphany struck him dead on like a sledgehammer.

He looked into a stranger's face and inhaled deeply while he closed his eyes just for a moment. With a newfound determination, he opened his eyes and just let it all happen then. He accepted the persistent half-whisper of sound dwelling at the base of his skull. He embraced the insect-like tingles and prickles which were rolling in waves down his arms, creeping like tiny bugs along his spine, wrapping to itch their wiry legs round to his chest. He rolled his shoulders to go with the feelings, no matter how distasteful, and inhaled deeply again only to exhale long and low. He opened himself up to the whole of it then. The noise, the smell, the heat, what he could feel of his own injuries and then what his body contrived to feel of everyone else's as he bravely opened his eyes wider.

Danny let it all wash over him like a swarm, hating to welcome it, cringing inside, but doing just that before he discarded things which didn't matter one by one. He did it quickly, efficiently and almost cruelly, shoving things to the wayside. Danny discounted almost everything then except for the two people in front of him. The gunman. The hostage.

 _The hostage._ Faux fingers briefly seems to scratch annoyingly though his hair when Danny looked her squarely over. There was no doubt that she'd been slightly injured in the crash. Her cheek was scuffed and scraped, a cut likely from glass, curved over her eye and into her hairline. Those injuries were what he seemed to be mirroring and they winced simultaneously when the gunman yanked her more in front of his body. Her shoulder twisted and Danny felt a brief sympathetic pang. She stumbled, nearly falling to her knees and gave out with a small cry. Her eyes watered tearily and yet something about them never changed. Despite the stray tear which rolled down her cheek, that disturbing crinkle was still there and possibly more pronounced. There was an odd softness at the corners of her mouth as if she, too, might smile. The mood was wrong between captor and victim. Danny blinked and swallowed hard as that heat flared inside his chest.

"You're not paying attention," the man drawled calmly. "We're leaving or I kill her now ..."

"You're wrong. I am paying attention," Danny replied. "Not only are you not leaving, you're not going to kill her." And he was. He was paying rapt attention now to subtle hints he'd never seen before.

He cocked his head to the side, his core pulsing hotly and mentally nodded to himself. The young girl was not a victim; not at all. She was an accomplice and a decent actress at that. Outwardly, she was every bit the terrified, helpless damsel in distress ... unless you could read the nearly invisible layer of clues.

"Are you willing to test that theory?" The man asked. He gestured boldly towards the woman. "A woman ... and her unborn child? Seriously?"

Danny let his eyes flick down to the woman's stomach. He registered the flowy silk of the maternity blouse and looser fit of the light weight jeans but then shrugged when he examined her face again. Beneath the blotchy redness, her expression was ... far too calm. _Not pregnant. Not a hostage._

"Danny, let them go ... stand down," Steve whispered off to his right. "We can't risk her ... we've lost this one." He'd struggled to his own feet and was closer now, braced against the cab of the truck, partially protected where Danny was out in the open. Danny clearly heard him, but Steve was wrong. He was _wrong_ , as were all the HPD officers in attendance. Danny knew it with every fiber of his being.

"No," he replied quietly. "No we haven't lost this one at all, Steve."

"You need to listen to your betters, blondie," the man snorted softly under his breath. Behind him, his second had finally regained his feet. He was wobbling but still armed and dangerous. He was turning towards them and time was running out. The woman's face was reddened and tear-stained. One hand supported the soft bulge of her belly but Danny knew ... he _knew_ so much better as her lips maintained that soft, confident curve. If anything at all, she was struggling not to look towards the badly injured man who'd just crawled to his feet.

The man she was most worried about with all of her heart.

"You're good, lady," Danny finally said. "I guess your share's decent, even if the take is only from a laundromat. But it's good right? A decent amount? You and your man there? Planning a nice vacation ... where to? South of France or some such romantic place?"

"Danny!" Steve almost shouted his name, the rebuke was issued loud and clear. But Danny was shaking his head, resolute, determined. He wasn't wrong; didn't even consider the possibility of it. He almost smiled when he read the shock in the girl's eyes. The truth of his raw challenge was tangible enough for him to feel the trill echo somewhere inside his chest. The two men even paused for a hairsbreadth in abject disbelief but that was when all hell broke loose and the group scattered amongst a volley of rapidly exchanged fire.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	10. Chapter 10

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Inside, he was tingling by the sensations which had touched him. The things he'd allowed in and then discarded. Of course, they'd leave a residue but except for those faint vibrations, they'd entered and gone on without really hurting him. He surprised himself by realizing he could cope with all of it even if he might be seriously weirded out by the experience. They'd flitted through him and were mostly gone. A tiny remnant of a vibration was hardly anything at all to worry about.

If he only had those things to contend with though. If just those things, then Danny knew he would have been okay. But there was more. Specifically, the things he'd permitted in and focused on with an unnatural zeal: the two gunmen, the girl. That supposed hostage who was not exactly a victim in any way, shape or form. So now, Danny breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his eyes watering. What he'd finally done had forced him to learn a few hard lessons. Oddly, those lessons had rewarded him with a mix of clear wins. He remembered channeling Grinnell's arrogance and pride even as he snapped the man's arm in two. He remembered feeling ... almost ... feral. Then after, the guilt and remorse had been crippling. He'd only managed coping though all of it with Steve's help.

What had happened today though was different; still disturbing and off-putting, but far less intense. Most importantly, he hadn't hesitated when it mattered the most and he'd come out now, on the other side, quite intact. He was shaky, maybe still a bit uncertain, but mostly whole and sane. There was a lot to be said for those things. Nonetheless, to stifle that victorious breath, Danny still knew precisely where each one of his bullets had hit home.

_An arm. A shoulder. A bloody gut wound, just off center of doing critical damage._

He'd mirror'd each slug as they'd torn into flesh. He'd accepted the consequences anyway, absorbed them and he'd kept going. _He hadn't hesitated._ He inhaled sharply again and again, unable to shake what he'd just accomplished with the acrid stench of cordite stuck inside his nose. He stared at the two downed men, one quietly moaning in discomfort, and blinked in surprise as he realized something else. Not only hadn't he hesitated, he'd hardly moved an inch at all. Technically, he was still wide out in the open. It was odd error for him to make, but he'd reacted on instinct to fire his weapon, to protect the innocent. And where would he have gone anyway? He'd been in a bad spot from the get-go.

Danny really did smile then, the movement small, his lips shaky. He wobbled where he stood as he slowly lowered his hands because he still had his weapon at the ready. He spared a selfish glance down at his chest. Other than the few cuts and bruises from the contrived car accident, there wasn't a new mark on him. No new signs of blood. No gaping bullet wounds. Nothing. Guns might not have jammed this time, but he'd been blessed in a different way and if he didn't feel so insanely sick to his stomach by what he'd just done, Danny thought he might laugh. Or pass out; passing out might be good too.

He also needed to check on his partner. The positions of the officers nearby. Danny meant to do those things, instead his gaze fell back to the two men who lay prone in front of him and then on to the young woman. Danny's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he settled on her and he came back to reality in a rush of sound and bright vibrant colors. She was on her knees, crying, but virtually crawling her way towards one of the men. The one who Danny sensed was her boyfriend ...or lover. As her fingers closed around the weapon he'd dropped in the brief skirmish, Danny raised his hands back up to the ready once more. What did it really matter how the two were connected? She was part of a dangerous trio ... and then suddenly, she was armed and swinging the gun towards him even while in a half-seated position.

 _Shit_. His head swam unexpectedly as their eyes met. Unconsciously, Danny registered the slender hand tucked against the faux belly. The clarity of her eyes held the truth. _Fake. A lie._ Some kind of subterfuge lay there in the hopes of guaranteeing some kind of clean getaway. A ploy to gain safe passage. He was positive of that as he far too calmly sighted her body, center mass.

"No. No, no, no. Don't move," Danny said, or at least he thought he said that. His mouth opened and noise came out, some semblance of sound. It might have even been those words, but if he'd managed anything at all, his demand certainly didn't project. Maybe he wasn't as fine as he'd originally thought. In fact, if he had been fine, he never would have let his guard down to allow her to get to a weapon in the first place. _Shit. Where was his head at?_

"Hey! D-down ... put it down!" He tried again, this time succeeding but knowing it was far too late. In that frozen frame of time shared between them, his fingers tightened on the trigger to his weapon, his eye automatically focused on the kill-shot. Almost in awe, Danny read the same determination in the thin line of the woman's lips, the tightness of her posture. Even if she were a bad shot, they were close. Far too close for her to miss hitting him, too. With a start, Danny realized that they'd likely go down together. One for one. Shot for shot. But it was another gun which rang out a fraction of a second before either of them could make that final commitment.

 _"Danny! Down, down down!"_ Steve's voice reached him as if the man was literally in his back-pocket as that shot rang out.

Danny gasped, reacting to the command on muscle memory alone. He dropped hard and rolled, coming up sharply against the rear tire of the pickup truck, his eyes still drawn to the girl's face. He fell beneath cover which was really no protection at all. Stuck there, he watched the woman fall limply to the side, heard her gurgle of pain which resounded inside his own throat. He felt a fluttering inside his chest followed by a fading of a resonance as her eyes captured his one last time.

Danny tried to look away, but he'd seen too much. He anticipated the building up of a vast emptiness which would envelope his senses; take over his core and smother all reason. He anticipated feeling the same as he had with Grinnell; like with the other man back in the garage that first time. But this time, it was no worse than that fluttering which barely lasted more than his own heart beat.

"Steve?" Danny croaked as he scrabbled awkwardly to his feet. He wavered, feeling weak, as he shoved his gun into the rear waistline of his pants so that he could swipe the sweat and blood away from his eye, astonished to see that his hands were finally ... _finally_ shaking from the beginnings of an adrenalin dump ... when he came face to face with his partner. Steve was hobbling on one leg, his hand clenched around the frame of the truck to offer balance.

"You're hit." Danny stated the obvious as he looked him over, swallowing hard when he eyed the bullet wound in Steve's leg. His mouth fell open and he made a face at the dull twinge he inherited. It was as before and he shook his head, gesturing widely.  "You're hit. Steve? You okay ... your leg? You need to sit down." He asked and demanded simultaneously, unsure of what to do when he failed at pushing Steve onto the bumper of his truck. "Sit down ... we need a medic. Where the hell are our guys? _Huh_?"

"Our guys?" Steve scoffed incredulously before he unexpectedly scooped Danny into his chest, a firm slap to his back added for good measure before holding Danny at arm's length. He wobbled on his one good leg, partly using his hold on Danny to keep himself upright, partly refusing to let him go at all.

"Danny. _Danny_ , what the hell just happened?!"

"Sit ... sit d-down ...," Danny stammered, failing now at pulling out of Steve's grip. He was trembling badly and his head was starting to thud. Confusing matters, that spot inside his core smoldered on but he was either growing used to it, or it was much less in its intensity. Focused more on his partner, Danny gestured again to Steve's leg.

"You're hurt ... probably b-bleeding to death." Danny grimaced and then shook his head to clear it from a brief buzzing. His leg mirrored an odd pulsing quiver. A disturbing feeling and Danny wondered how Steve could even be standing, let alone the wherewithal to have his back to take out the girl. To trust him implicitly that he'd been right about her deceit with no tangible proof whatsoever. Distressed by that, Danny thumbed his temple near the gash, wincing at the ache he caused himself. His next words came out in an uncontrollable, breathless ramble. "You're _hurt_ ... your damned leg! Are you okay? No, no you're not ...of course you're not ... but we need an ambulance."

" _Me_? Am _I_ okay?" Steve blurted breathlessly. "Danny ... what the hell is going on?" He glanced worriedly to the girl he'd just killed and then over to the two gunmen. HPD officers were already there and taking the scene into hand; more sirens could be heard now in the background. Everything had happened within a matter of minutes although it had felt like hours.

An officer had taken a knee by the young woman, his face grim and a good enough confirmation of her state. Out of some kindness, he made to reposition the hem of her blouse which had ridden up on one side. But he gasped loudly when he saw what peeked out.

"Holy shit," the man mumbled as he poked inquisitively at a soft, white material. "This is ... this is incredible."

"What?" Steve asked sharply and Danny winced as his fingertips dug into his arms. "What is it?"

"She's deceased, Sir," the officer reiterated. "But, this?" He glanced towards Danny awestruck, then to Steve. "She's wearing a prosthetic pad or cushion ...she's not pregnant, Sir. Never was. What the hell kind of game were these three playing at?"

Instead of answering him directly, Steve shook his head and gave Danny a little shake. "How did you know that?" He asked quietly. "How did you know she was in on it? How in god's name are you not dead right now?" Steve paused, his tone serious and his voice dropping to a mere whisper. "Are you okay ... Danno? _Inside_ ... are you all right?"

When confronted with this question, Danny took another tally of himself, holding his hands up between them. They were both shaking and Danny was truly nauseous now from the adrenalin dump, the ache in his head and no doubt, what he'd just gone through. _How did he feel though_ ... and was he all right? Based on his personal history, those were different questions indeed.

 _His hands were shaking. His palms were sweaty._ His entire body was trembling. That wretched place inside his chest was cloying and hot, but he could almost cope with it. Danny glanced into Steve's face before looking over to the gunmen, then to where the girl lay. She was now hidden from view, her body draped by a white sheet. He'd been right and not only had Steve trusted him, Danny had trusted himself. _So, how was he?_

"Danno?" Steve pressed, his tone laced with concern. "Are you okay ... are you all right?"  He still had his hands wrapped around Danny's upper arms. A subtle tremor echoed through his fingers to Danny's skin and they seemed to be holding each other up now. They were both hurting, inside and out. Each of them had been both stretched to their limits that afternoon and Danny almost laughed out loud at the idea of walking around the shopping mall. Why-ever had he been so worried about something as simple as that? The two of them regarded each other long and hard. Measuring and cataloging what they saw and what they thought they understood about the other. After a minute, Danny shrugged and managed a genuine smile, even if it might be a bit uncertain.

"Yeah, yeah," he finally whispered back as he changed tactics to grip Steve's forearms, his intent clear. "I think I am ... I think I'm good." It was the truth and Danny kept his smile when Steve finally allowed himself to be gently guided to sit on the rear bumper of his pickup truck, Danny propped next to him.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Everyone! Best wishes for a healthy, happy year to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: And look ... we made it through the longest Epilogue in the history of Epilogues! Thank you all for putting up with yet another story gone off the tracks. I appreciate everyone's comments, reviews and help in getting it done.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Eyes partly open, Steve quietly watched Danny from his hospital bed. Discharged that very morning after an over-night stay to mind his concussion, Danny was able to leave whenever he wanted to. The man in question though hadn't said a word to anyone about either leaving ... or staying. But staying he was based on how he was calmly reclined on the spare hospital bed, fully dressed, but flat out on his back, staring up at his raised hands. While Steve watched him, quietly, covertly, Danny rotated his hands in the air above his head, to the left and then the right. Examining the front and back of each; his palms and even each individual finger. The nurse had come in a few minutes earlier, catching Danny doing just this. Danny hadn't even acknowledged her presence. She'd frowned in confusion, evidently seeing the act as incredibly odd. She'd glanced in question Steve's way, but he'd feigned sleep quickly enough. There'd been no doubt that she'd found Danny's self-examination strange, even eccentric. But it wasn't to Steve. Not in the least.

Steve slowly squinted his eyes back open when he sensed the nurse leave after checking his vitals and hanging another bag of IV antibiotics. Also concussed from the original traffic accident and sporting a small bandage across his temple much like Danny's, Steve had further complications from being shot. The bullet had gone clean through the fleshy part of his upper thigh. Clean through, but still nasty enough and certainly painful enough. Steve's anticipated time of departure from the hospital was another good two to three or maybe even four days based on whatever protocols or edicts his doctor decided to throw his way.

He breathed in deeply, his eyes suddenly struggling to stay open. Steve scowled as his lids dipped dangerously closed and he had to fight hard to re-open them. He knew then that the nurse had also dispensed his pain meds. The good stuff for sure as his body began to feel warm, comfortable, and far too lethargic.

"Ah ... geez," he murmured. His leg had felt stiff and sore just moments earlier. Now, those uncomfortable feelings were easing into a heavy, much more pleasant state of numbness. He appreciated the meds and he wanted to sleep, but he also didn't want to sleep with Danny still just a few feet away. Steve felt obliged to talk more about what had happened. He was worried and wanted to make sure Danny was really all right. Because even though they'd spoken on and off over the course of the last many hours, those conversations had been far from satisfying and Steve wondered at their depth. Danny had been evasive and more interested in discussing Steve's well-being with his doctor or that of the two gunmen under guard in the same hospital. He'd gone so far as to call Lou Grover and then their contacts in the police department to inquire about the young woman's history ... wanting to solve the real reasons behind the crime at the laundromat and the subsequent showdown. Danny was positive that there was so much more behind those events. While Steve didn't doubt that his partner was right on all counts, Steve was of the opinion that all of that could wait. The right people were on the case and neither he nor Danny needed to weigh in. They'd be included with the findings simply out of professional courtesy without Danny needing to raise his little finger.

"Hey," Steve whispered softly. "Danno?" They were alone and now was the perfect time for more talk. But his lips barely moved and his eyes were closing again. He was sure that they wouldn't have any type of real heart to heart solely based on where they were ... as well as the newness of what had happened. He wanted to try though and least get the need on the table.

"Hey, buddy?" As Steve tried again, his voice sounded faint even to himself. Far away, foggy. He smiled happily as he started to float a bit away from his own plot. There was a lot to be said for getting the good stuff.  He couldn't shake all of his worries though and something he couldn't quite put his finger on was gnawing at him and he forced himself to refocus. Talk. He wanted to talk to his partner.

Danny was slow to burn sometimes and the drug had made him more reticent and reserved than usual. As Steve had discovered time and again, Danny's demons in this regard had a bad habit of rearing their ugly heads well-after the fact. Steve made a face as his foggy brain finally gave that worry up to what it was and he used his shoulders to push himself up farther onto the pillows.

Danny was looking at his _hands_. That meant his partner was still under duress. And where were they right then? A hospital. No, _the_ hospital. Exactly the same damned one they'd been in before. The one with the roof ... the helipad ... the awkwardly remote spot so many stories above street level. Danny could get it into his head to be alone again and quite frankly, Steve was worried about that happening.

As he raised the head of his bed to blatantly watch Danny visually inspect his hands, Steve was afraid that Danny would wind up on that rooftop _again_ ... and this time, Steve was far from being mobile. He'd never be able to intercede or help, or head-off any number of concerns he still harbored.

"Daniel," Steve said. He was wide awake now that he had the startling reason defined. "We need to talk, buddy."

"Go to sleep, Steven," Danny sighed out. "We can talk later." He dropped his hands to his chest and sat up on the edge of the bed to look Steve's way. "Tomorrow in fact."

"Yeah, no," Steve replied gruffly. He scowled when Danny raised what looked like an amused eyebrow at him.

"Yeah? No?" Danny mimicked back. Danny grinned, his eyes brightening with humor. "That was eloquent."

"Shut up ... we need to talk," Steve said, grinning helplessly when Danny mockingly rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. Evidently, he'd managed to work himself into a corner with just a few simple words. Sure enough, Danny felt like he needed to point his errors out to him.

"Oh? And now I should shut up, but you want to talk? I rest my case," Danny chuckled as he stood, walking to Steve's bedside. "Go to sleep."  He propped himself close to Steve's hip, still smiling but now serious. "You don't know what you want, babe. So how about you just go to sleep? You can barely keep your eyes open. Besides, what could you possibly want to talk about now?"

Steve's head suddenly felt thick, the thud of a headache was duly muffled by the meds. Danny could flip things on a dime and Steve wasn't up to the task. This was important though and Steve wrapped his fingers around his partner's wrist.

"What's wrong?" Danny asked. He covered Steve's fingers with his free hand and a strange look passed across his eyes. "You're ..."

"Yeah, worried," Steve cut him off. He made a point of looking around the room, including the ceiling to make himself crystal clear. "We haven't really talked and I know you ... I know you and that crazy head of yours."

Danny made a face then as he looked at their joined hands. "Yeah, I guess you do," Danny admitted softly. "But I'm good ... mostly good."

"Mostly?" Steve pressed harder. "Mostly, Danno? Because you were just staring at your hands and I can't have you running away right now, looking for some kind of escape ... up there ... alone. So tell me what happened out there. What really went down out there ... what did you do? Tell me where you're at."

Danny nodded but stayed silent, proof positive of Steve's worries because this and only this had changed parts of Danny's personality so greatly. It was Steve's turn to point that out now.

"This is what I mean," Steve challenged him. "You? At a loss for words? It never happened before this, Danno. Never. I don't like it ... I don't trust it and so yeah, yeah ... I'm worried. So what happened out there?"

"Okay," Danny finally said. He paused and then shrugged helplessly. "It's easy really. I had to just let it all in ... I just stopped fighting and let it all happen." He pulled out of Steve's light hold to tap his chest meaningfully.

"In here," he explained. "I let it go and just felt all of it happen ...and you know what? Nothing bad happened in the end. I didn't like it; it felt ... wrong. Weird. But none of it really hurt me and I could think though it all ... all those weird feelings didn't take me along with them. It wasn't even as intense as it had been in the beginning. Sure, I felt dizzy, sick, but just for a minute and then it was all mostly gone."

He waggled his fingers through the air. "Little things vibrated inside me until they faded, too. I found out that it was nothing I couldn't deal with. And I didn't think that would happen or that I could sort of control things. But I _could_ ... and then I could just focus on the two guys ... the girl. I knew she was lying ... I could _feel_ that she was lying."

"So, it's not all gone then," Steve stated, a bit disappointed that there was still something there. "Inside?"

"No, it's not all gone," Danny whispered. "But ... but I think I can deal with what's left now; glimmers of things. Plus, with the girl ... I guess that was a win, wasn't it? If we'd all believed she was pregnant and in real danger, they'd probably have gotten away. Right?"

"Yeah, the girl. About that," Steve said as he recaptured Danny's wrist. "How the hell did you know she was lying?"

Danny shrugged. "Well, her eyes for one," he replied. "There was the ghost of something in her eyes; around her eyes. They were too clear, too bright. Too intense and yet she wasn't stressed about herself. For a supposedly expectant mother, she was too ... calm. She might have been crying but it was a sham ... it wasn't genuine. Plus ... and, you're going to think this is weird, but I didn't feel anything inside. Where there should have been something ... she was empty ... here." Danny pointed to his chest, or maybe a bit lower and Steve's eyes widened in surprise.

"You can feel ... _babies_?" Steve blurted out stupidly.

"What!? Oh my god! No!" Danny objected loudly. He yanked his hands out from Steve's grip only to wave them wildly through the air. "No, no I can't feel _babies_ you moron! What I felt ... or what I think I felt should have been like a ... heaviness or something ... there. Like a pressure or ... something solid. I can't explain it so if you tell anyone that I can _feel babies,_ I swear to god Steven, I will smack you upside the head!"

Steve smiled then. Danny's eyes were probably as big as his own, but his partner's indignation washed over him like a welcome blanket. Steve's smile grew when Danny roughly ran his fingers through his hair. Danny was annoyed and flustered. Plainly exasperated.  With that knowledge, came a reassuring feeling of its own and Steve laughed lightly. Things weren't perfect, yet Danny was really fine. Things were okay.

"You know what? This was a stupid conversation!" Danny griped as he got to his feet. He pointed to the spare bed before he stared into his Steve's face. "I'm just going to hang out over there for awhile until you fall asleep. Which you _will_ do since I know ... _I know_ ... that you're feeling no pain at all right now, Steven."

Steve chuckled as he watched his partner sit almost huffily down on the opposite bed. Danny punched at the pillow before shoving it behind his back and then swung his legs up, crossing them at the ankles. He stared over at Steve again, his arms now wrapped in annoyance around his middle. His brow furrowed and he groaned loudly.

"What?" Danny demanded. "Now what?"

"So, no rooftops then?" Steve asked. He had to ask regardless of knowing the answer. Danny was really fine and his choice to stay in the hospital was just that, a simple choice to keep him company. Maybe Danny only wanted to reassure himself of a few leftover, minor nits. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone and that was just fine with Steve. Regardless of those particular reasons, Steve knew they would be more benign.

"No," Danny sighed, seemingly still very exasperated. He settled back and closed his own eyes, demonstrating to Steve that he was okay and that Steve should do the same. "No rooftops ... no helipads. Just go to sleep, wouldya? Please?"

"Okay," Steve replied, finally appeased. "G'night." He was falling asleep before he had to even think too hard about it, his last hazy view that of his partner, his hands calmly folded in his lap, and that of the amused smile gracing Danny's lips.

_**~ End. ~** _


End file.
